


For Every Day After

by Neptune20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom Hermione Granger, Dominant!Hermione, F/M, Femdom, Sub Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptune20/pseuds/Neptune20
Summary: During her relationship with Ron, Hermione had tunnel vision. Now that it’s over, she looks around and wonders how everything changed. Why is Harry just drifting through life? Why did none of their other friends try to help? Why is she the only one willing to do what he needs? After DH. EWE. Domme!Hermione/sub!Harry





	1. Take A Look Around

Chapter 1  
Take A Look Around  
  
###  
  
Hermione sighed as she unpacked her clothes into the hotel drawers. She would need to find a more permanent housing situation, but since her parents had decided that they enjoyed staying in Australia after getting their memories restored, she didn’t have family that she could stay with for a little while. Not now that she wasn’t welcome as part of the family with the Weasleys.  
  
Her and Ron had always fought with each other, but there had also been moments of kindness and glimpses into the person she wished he was. Of course, she knew now that those glimpses were probably due to that wretched book he’d read.  
  
_Fail-safe ways to charm witches indeed,_ Hermione thought with some disgust.  
  
Looking back now, she probably should have broken off the relationship upon finding out about the book a year ago. Ron had of course given it to Harry, but when Ginny had broken up with him, Harry had returned the book to Ron saying that he was ‘no longer interested’ in what it had to say. That argument had been thunderous. But she had… hoped, she supposed. Hoped that his attention to her and her ideas was coming from a genuine interest in what she thought, instead of a role he believed he had to play to keep her happy.  
  
Honestly, she might have been okay with him not sharing any of her interests. She’d been thoroughly infatuated with him in sixth year, and might have started dating him regardless of his respect for her ideas at that time. The thought made her scowl and stuff several of her pants into the drawer with slightly more force than was strictly necessary. She closed the drawer, fell back onto the bed, and sighed again.  
  
No, she shouldn’t have let it go on so long. Her and Ron just… weren’t right. They fought over big things and small things, because they simply didn’t agree on nearly anything. Well, they agreed on finding each other attractive, but that isn’t quite enough to sustain a long-term relationship. It had sustained theirs for over two years, but now it left her feeling foolish. She’d told him so, that she felt foolish for staying with him. Hermione winced at that memory. It hadn’t been particularly kind, but they’d already been having a go at each other, and she’d lost her temper.  
  
That’s one of the things that made her decide this was it, they were done for good. No cooling off for a few days, no ignoring the argument until it was a faded memory. No more being unhappy. She hadn’t had a real temper ever, except with Ron. She got indignant, and she got self-righteous she could admit, but just plain angry? That hadn’t ever been part of who she was, and she didn’t like who she was when it happened. Those are the things that had been running through her mind when she’d told Ron he made her feel foolish, and more than any cutting remark she’d ever made to him that one had seemed to sting.  
  
He’d gone quiet, turned that unique shade of red that only she seemed able to cause, and told her to pack her things. So she had.  
  
Hermione found herself… not really _happy_ that their relationship was over but… relieved? That was probably right. It had just been so much work to maintain the relationship they had, and it had started to really wear her down. It had consumed so much of her time and energy that she’d let many of her friendships fall by the wayside. That was another thing that in retrospect should have set alarms off. Both of them had been focusing on each other to the exclusion of their friends, because looking away from their relationship had risked implosion.  
  
It had been weeks since she’d had a real conversation with someone who wasn’t a Weasley. It had been nearly two months since she’d talked to Harry, she realized. Actually now that she thought about it, she hadn’t had very many meaningful conversations with Harry at all since a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. She had talked with him, but every time she had he’d seemed so… ambivalent. Melancholic. He’d always been a guy that kept to himself, but not from her. What had changed? She hadn’t noticed anything change.  
  
_I don’t know when Ron and I will even be on speaking terms with each other,_ she thought. _I definitely can’t have both of my oldest friends be distant._  
  
Hermione picked herself off the bed and went to write a letter. Perhaps Harry would meet her for some lunch tomorrow and they could catch up.  
  
###  
  
Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked at the light on the ceiling.  
  
_Hmmm… maybe two in the afternoon?_  
  
He stared for several seconds trying to decide whether or not to get out of bed. What exactly did he have to do today? He was pretty sure he’d managed to avoid any commitments for today. Unless it wasn’t Thursday perhaps? Harry grabbed his glasses off the night stand and put them on before picking up his wand to check the date. Excellent, so he hadn’t lost track of the day again. And Thursday meant he didn’t have anything to do.  
  
Harry rolled over and closed his eyes again. If he didn’t have anything to do, then why get out of bed? He cursed himself for tempting fate so brazenly when almost immediately after an incessant tapping sounded on his window. He growled as he rolled out from under the covers and shuffled to the window.  
  
“What!” he nearly shouted at the owl when he got the window open. The blasted bird gave his ear a sharp nip as it flew past him and landed on his desk.  
  
_I wonder if that owl is from anyone important, or if I could risk giving it a good kick._  
  
Harry took a deep breath as he walked over to his desk. He’d become someone who definitely wasn’t a morning person. Harry checked the time again. Or an afternoon person, apparently. But it wasn’t an unreasonable hour to be receiving owls, and there was no reason to take out his frustration on the creature.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled as he gently removed the letter. Not many people sent him letters any more, which was actually the way he preferred it, but this was an owl he didn’t recognize. Giving the note a few waves of his wand to ensure he wasn’t about to be cursed, Harry unfolded it and began to read a tight and neat script that he would recognize anywhere.  
  
_Harry,_  
  
I was wondering if you’d be willing to join me tomorrow afternoon for some lunch. I was thinking about heading into Muggle London and would certainly appreciate the company and the chance to catch up with you.  
  
Please send your reply back with my new owl. Her name is Curie, and she’s quite intelligent, so don’t do anything to get on her bad side.  
  
Love,  
Hermione  
  
Harry groaned as he looked up at the owl.  
  
“Sorry Curie, you caught me when I was just waking up. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”  
  
The owl stared at him for several seconds before looking away and cleaning its feathers. Harry pulled out a quill and jotted down his acceptance of the invitation before attaching it to Curie’s leg and sending the owl on its way.  
  
Normally he would decline such a request, politely or impolitely depending on how much he cared about what the person thought, but Hermione and Ron were different. No matter what he would always make time for them. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really talked to either of them in at least a few weeks. Or, he thought it had been a few weeks? Things blended together when you aren’t really doing anything.  
  
Doing nothing was what Harry had in a way dedicated himself to. He’d spent his entire childhood having to be decisive because his life depended on it, but even then he’d found it tiring. A few times, like during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, his resistance to being decisive had cost him greatly or caused him a great deal of trouble. But now that his unwanted mission in life was over, he just felt so… tired. Spent. Done with it all.  
  
His apathy towards doing anything productive had been what had eventually driven Ginny away. She had put up with him far longer than he had any right to expect, but Ginny had never been one to sit around and do nothing, or one to motivate other people into action. In the end he’d simply watched her go, and then receded into a life of living off his inheritance and resting.  
  
Which, frankly, Harry felt he kind of deserved. If anyone had the right to _just be_ , it was him.  
  
But for his two best friends, the people who had stuck with him through every suicidal turn of his teenage years, he would leave the house and do something. Checking his kitchen cupboard, he reasoned that he needed to pick up some groceries anyway.  
  
###  
  
Hermione fidgeted as she waited for Harry to walk into the diner. She’d sent him the location as soon as she’d received his reply, but he was already running several minutes late and Hermione worried that something may have come up. Where was he working again? She couldn’t remember, and kicked herself mentally for how thoroughly she must have been ignoring all of the people she knew.  
  
The bell on the door sounded and Hermione’s eyes locked on Harry as he walked in the door. Within a few moments he was sitting across from her, a confused expression on his face.  
  
“Where’s Ron?” Harry finally asked.  
  
“Oh, uh…” Hermione faltered. “You haven’t spoken with him?”  
  
“Er, not in a few weeks I think,” Harry answered. “Something happen?”  
  
“We broke it off,” Hermione said. She saw him give her a dubious look. “Permanently. It’s over. I thought for sure he would have contacted you.”  
  
“When did that happen?” Harry asked seriously.  
  
“Just… well in the morning yesterday.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d know. If you’d prefer to leave I understand, I wouldn’t—”  
  
“Relax, Hermione,” Harry reassured her. “I’m not… going to get in the middle of all that. I stopped getting in the middle of your guys’ spats in fifth year.” A few seconds of silence passed before Harry’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, er, I’m sorry to hear about it… by the way…”  
  
Hermione looked at him for several seconds in shock. The way he was speaking was almost like he was… it was like someone had explained to him the way a normal person would act and he was following their verbal description.  
  
“That’s alright, Harry,” she said evenly. “It’s for the best anyway. We… well, you know what our relationship was like.”  
  
“You mean in school?” Harry asked confused. Hermione stared at him.  
  
“No, our… after we moved in…” Hermione trailed off. Had Harry really been so far from them that he didn’t really know what their relationship had been like after Hogwarts? “Never mind, just… we ended up not being right for each other.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, and this time it sounded genuine. “I suppose Ron will want to talk sometime soon as well.”  
  
“Yes, well, I didn’t actually ask to meet because I wanted to commiserate,” Hermione explained. “I asked to have lunch because I realized that I hadn’t been a very good friend and had been ignoring you quite a lot while I was with Ron.”  
  
“Oh don’t worry, Hermione,” Harry said with a faint smile. “I don’t blame either of you for that. It didn’t bother me knowing that you two were off somewhere being happy, I’d be the same way I reckon.”  
  
“Yes, but that’s the point Harry, we _weren’t_ happy.” Hermione sniffed. “Besides, that really is no excuse for us being horrible friends.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Harry soothed, putting up his hands. “Apology accepted. Merlin knows you won’t drop it until I let you know you’re right.”  
  
Hermione gave him a glare.  
  
“What do you do?” Hermione asked him.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, I realized the other day that I don’t remember you talking about what you do for a living since we left school.” Hermione looked a bit sheepish at this admission, but pressed forward anyway. “Have you applied to be an Auror? Are you already in training?”  
  
Harry let out a large, genuine laugh, and the sound made Hermione acutely aware of just how lacking he had been in humor the last few times they’d talked.  
  
“No, not at all,” Harry said. “I’ve been living off my inheritance.”  
  
A few seconds passed while Hermione waited for the rest, but no elaboration seemed to be forthcoming.  
  
“And?” she prompted. “What do you do with your time?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry said, starting to sound a little annoyed. “Mostly I’m just around my house. Every now and then someone invites me to a birthday, or a wedding or something like that.”  
  
“That’s… That’s it?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Yes,” Harry confirmed with a sigh. “What are you going to get?” he asked, trying to change the subject.  
  
Hermione moved her eyes from his face to her menu, thinking as she stared at the list of dishes she could order. Something had happened to Harry and she hadn’t noticed it happening, but she was determined now to figure out what.  
  
###  
  
Hermione paced her hotel room in frustration. The last two weeks had been incredibly frustrating for her. To begin with, Ron was still being a prat and refusing to talk to her or return her owls, although she had only really attempted to contact him twice. In the end she decided that at least for now that was fine. She didn’t particularly feel like talking to him much and had only reached out to try and discuss Harry with her former… flame.  
  
She had managed to rope Harry into several more lunches together, again on the pretext of catching up, but she was quickly starting to realize it hadn’t been a pretext. She really had lost track of him completely. The moment she’d realized the extent to which Harry had simply fallen off her radar of importance had sent a piercing cold feeling through her chest. She had bled for this man. She had been _tortured_ for him… She’d nearly led a Ministry official to their deaths for him and she had made her parents forget her existence for him. How could she have so completely abandoned him?  
  
That sharp spike of guilt and shame fed an even greater feeling of anger and disgust. No one around Harry, none of the other people that knew him and had been trying to keep in touch with him, had really done _anything_ to help him. Was it _always_ her job to pick up the pieces when Harry fell apart? Her anger was directed at many people, but none more so than Ginny. If anyone had been in a position to help him with what he was going through, it was her, and if anyone could be said to have had the responsibility it would be his girlfriend.  
  
To Hermione this felt like a repeat of Christmas during fifth year. Harry had the vision of Nagini attacking Arthur and had been worried that he was being possessed by Voldemort. In typical Harry fashion, he’d concluded the best thing to do was lock himself in a room at Grimmauld Place and protect everyone else from the danger he represented. No discussion, no reaching out, no asking for help. His friends and family at the time had tried to help, at least a little, but had been utterly ineffective. They hadn’t been willing to do what was necessary for Harry. In the case of Sirius, Hermione thought that was probably because he just wasn’t in a state to properly help, what with Azkaban and being locked up in that horrid house. Besides, she felt uneasy about blaming a man who had been so important to Harry before dying. With Ginny though…  
  
Ginny had _actually_ been possessed by Voldemort. She _actually_ could have helped Harry, _actually_ made a difference to him. She was, at least, aware of that fact because she had tried to get Harry to let her in the room. But when Harry had been obstinate as he sometimes was, Ginny had gotten _annoyed_ with him. Not for being difficult, but for _ignoring_ her. She was more concerned about the fact that Harry wouldn’t pay her attention than the fact that Harry was hurting.  
  
But when Hermione had received a letter during the break explaining what was going on she had canceled her time with her parents, despite the fact that she only got to see them for a few weeks a year. She’d come _immediately_ to Grimmauld Place, and she had _forced_ Harry to let her in. She hadn’t been worried if Harry would be upset with her for being ‘bossy’ or ‘nosy’, she had done what was necessary to help him, even if it cost her. And when Hermione had finally pulled Harry out of that room after being there for only _minutes_ , Ginny hadn’t pointed out her own possession as a way to help Harry, she’d pointed it out to _admonish him_ for not paying attention to her.  
  
Hermione growled in frustration, took a deep breath, and calmed herself.  
  
Ginny had only been 14 at the time, so of course she was going to be that way at least a little. It didn’t necessarily speak to a fundamental part of her character, and Hermione could be honest enough to realize that her current anger and resentment towards Ron might be spilling over a little bit at the moment to the other Weasleys. But it still infuriated her that no one had done anything to help Harry.  
  
At first Hermione had thought from talking with him that Harry was showing the classic signs of depression. That would have made some sense, she supposed, except that he didn’t seem emotionally stunted when she talked to him. He seemed more… bored. Additionally, despite all his apparent apathy, Harry hadn’t avoided spending time with his godson at all. Harry still made regular appointments with Andromeda to spend time with Teddy, and seemed to genuinely enjoy playing with the toddler. He also hadn’t outright refused any of her requests for lunch.  
  
No, he wasn’t depressed. As she had talked with him more and more she’d realized that he was just… standing still. It was like he didn’t have the will to move forward towards anything, to set goals or make plans. But when other people instigated, at least when they didn’t take his first ‘no’ as an answer… he seemed to go along with it. It was like he just didn’t want to make decisions or have a will of his own anymore.  
  
Hermione found this… problematic. She thought she knew what to do had he been depressed, she had her own experiences with that and understood a lot of the current thinking on how to treat depression. But how do you treat a lack of will? It was so intrinsic to going through life, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing she could really do much about just by having lunch with him several times a week. No, to deal with this problem she would—  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened and she slowly looked around her room. Yes… that could work. She started moving around the room, packing up her things. It was time to check out of the hotel, it wasn’t a long-term solution anyway. Harry’s problem was that he didn’t want to make decisions, and what he needed was someone to ‘crack the whip’ so to speak. To motivate him. She had often felt like her controlling and bossy side had been a flaw that kept her from forming friendships, but perhaps this time the flaw could work in her favor. During their last lunch Harry had finally told her where his house was, and she was going to use that information to full effect.  
  
Her plan was simple: show up at Harry’s door, move into a spare room, and boss him around to get him doing things until he had the strength of will to kick her out. It might upset him for a bit, it might annoy him for a bit, but just like every time she’d had the chance during their adventures, Hermione was willing to sacrifice to help him, even if that meant sacrificing how much he enjoyed her company.  
  
Hermione paused as the ‘mudblood’ scar on her left arm caught her eye. This wouldn’t even be close to the most difficult thing she’d done to help him.  
  
###  
  
Harry grumbled as he heard the wards chime. It was — Harry checked his watch — 8 PM, who in the world would be dropping by at this time in the evening? Civilized people would be having a meal. In fact, who would be dropping by at all? He couldn’t remember the last person that had come by other than Andromeda, and she would never bring Teddy over this late.  
  
He stumbled his way to the door, building up a foul mood that he could dump on whoever was at the door, but when he turned the knob and opened it all the fight left him and a sense of confusion and concern overtook him instead.  
  
“Hermione?” he asked. “What… are you doing here? Did something happen?” He eyed her luggage conspicuously.  
  
“Open the door, Harry,” Hermione said forcefully, ignoring his questions for the moment.  
  
Harry blinked. That… was a tone of voice he hadn’t heard her use in a while. Especially with him. Shrugging his shoulders Harry opened the door and stepped aside, watching as she levitated her belongings through the entryway. As soon as she’d set them down gently, she turned around and faced him, a sort of determination in her eyes that reminded him an awful lot of their Horcrux hunt.  
  
“Close the door, Harry.”  
  
He nodded as he latched the door.  
  
“What’s going on?” Harry asked.  
  
“I’m going to live with you for a little while,” Hermione told him in a tone of utter finality.  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Harry responded. He couldn’t recall this coming up in their lunch conversations.  
  
“Do you not want me here?” she asked him. Harry searched her face for some kind of clue as to what was happening here.  
  
“Well… not _really_ , but I guess you can stay if you need to.”  
  
“Oh, _I_ don’t need to stay, but _you_ need me to stay,” Hermione assured him. “You’re just wasting away in this house, no sense of will, no sense of direction, no hunger for life at all. That. Is. Unacceptable.” Harry’s eyes widened at every word of her explanation. “So I will be staying here and making you do things until you can make yourself do them.”  
  
“Hermione…” Harry said with a frown.  
  
“Do you want me to leave?”  
  
Yes. Yes he did, as a matter of fact. What she had just described sounded absolutely exhausting and at complete odds with the ‘retire at the age of 17’ plans he’d been enacting since his mission had ended.  
  
“Yes,” he said, but it came out ineffectual and weak. Merlin, maybe he really _had_ let things go a little bit.  
  
“Alright,” Hermione said, a smirk spreading over her face. She took two steps over to him until her face was looking up directly into his. “Make me,” she whispered.  
  
Harry was stunned and… Merlin, even a little _turned on_ by the confidence and sureness of her voice. It had been… years since anyone had invested the kind of energy it took to be nosy and bossy into _him_. Their faces were less than a foot away from each other and he opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to make any words come out.  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Hermione said satisfied. “I’m staying here until you _make_ me leave. When you have the will to do that, I’ll know that you don’t need me to ‘boss you around’ any more, as you used to call it in school.”  
  
She turned with a flip of her hair which just barely grazed the front of his face, and his eyes got even wider as he felt his pants tighten ever so slightly.  
  
Fuck… He was _so completely screwed_.  
  
###  
  
**Author's Note:** Hey there's this is my third story, and it's another one that includes BDSM elements. This one is obviously a post-DH fic featuring Harry and Hermione as a couple. In case you're worried, no there won't be Ron/Ginny/Weasley bashing in this fic, Hermione isn't the most unbiased source at this point in the story when it comes to any of them.  
  
This will definitely by an actual romance, but one featuring a Domme Hermione and a sub Harry (in case that wasn't clear from the description and the story so far).  
  
I hope you enjoy!   
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	2. You Break It, You Buy It

Chapter 2  
You Break It, You Buy It  
  
###  
  
Harry stared at Hermione as she levitated her luggage in front of her down the hallway. He was stunned… and confused. A part of him was outraged at Hermione’s presumption and lack of discussion. Many times before she had interjected herself into a part of his life and pushed him into doing something that he was either against doing or hesitant about committing to.  
  
Another part of him was rather touched at the amount she must care for him to go to this kind of length to fix what she saw as a problem. Harry could admit that perhaps his current lifestyle left some things to be desired, but it was just so… tedious to put in effort. After the Battle of Hogwarts everyone had just gone their own way. They’d thanked him, and talked to him, and asked him questions, but in the end they’d all just… moved on. It was something that Harry couldn’t really figure out how to do properly on his own.  
  
The most troubling reaction however was how shockingly sexy he’d found that conversation. He probably shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as he hadn’t had sex in over a year and had barely even been in the presence of an attractive woman, or really a woman at all, for a very long time. It certainly hadn’t helped that Hermione had gotten so close to him, and that expression on her face, that smirk… he’d never noticed an expression like that on Hermione’s face before, and it had been somewhat shocking to see it there. Shocking and _completely fucking arousing_.  
  
That had to be at least somewhat expected, any bloke would probably feel that way if an attractive woman showed up one night and declared she would be living with him. But he had to dash those thoughts _immediately_ if Hermione was going to be staying. Hermione was one of the few people left on the planet that seemed to like being around him, and on top of that, she had just broken up with the only other person that might actually want to be around him. Harry wasn’t sure exactly what the rules would be for something like that, but he was certain that nothing good could come from being aroused by the woman living in his house that was surely completely off-limits.  
  
He was pulled from his thoughts as Hermione came back down the hall with a determined look on her face. Ooohhhh… not good. Not good at all.  
  
“Make us dinner, Harry,” she told him. He _wanted_ to be upset at how imperious she was being, but frustratingly it felt somewhat relaxing for Harry to simply be told what the next thing to do was. Often when he was sitting around his house, and not sleeping, he would spend time wondering what to spend time on. Eventually that always became disconcerting, but it was a cycle he seemed to fall into quite often.  
  
“What should I make?” he asked.  
  
“Something light,” she answered, turning back to head to her room. Harry shook his head. No, that wasn’t _her_ room, it was _his_ spare room that she had _commandeered_. “Have it ready in half an hour or so!” she called back over her shoulder.  
  
Harry’s eyes widened. A half hour? He needed to get moving!  
  
He scrambled into the kitchen and began pulling out cookware before it really hit him how natural it had been to take what she said as ‘the way it was going to be’. He supposed that had something to do with following her directions becoming a habit during school, but at this point there was nothing to be gained by making a fuss. No matter what his rather confused feelings were on what Hermione was doing, he would at least follow this direction.  
  
Disappointingly, he didn’t seem to have much food around the house that could be used to make ‘something light’, so he’d had to settle for a couple of dressed up salads which definitely were not his normal fare for a whole meal. He found himself getting into a sort of zone as he prepared the food, his mental acuity becoming sharp and focused on the task, and it was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It felt… wonderful. Why didn’t he feel this way more often?  
  
“Ah… good work, Harry,” Hermione said gently. Harry looked up at her startled. He hadn’t even realized she was in the room, let alone that she was observing him. Though the praise made him feel… nice. As a child and teenager he’d experienced so few moments of genuine earned praise, and that made his unearned praise even more difficult to swallow. It had seemed while he was growing up that everything he actually did went unnoticed, while everything other people wished he had done was commented on perpetually.  
  
Harry felt himself become a bit pink at the words and a warmth spread through him. It meant more, coming from Hermione. She didn’t hand out praise casually, she really meant it when she said it, and it was always so enjoyable for Harry to experience an affirmation.  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” he said, pushing her bowl forward. Hermione inspected the bowl carefully before looking up with a warm smile.  
  
“Brilliant,” she beamed. “You followed my directions perfectly.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry mumbled, shifting a bit uncomfortably. They both picked up their forks and dug in. Harry glanced up, thinking perhaps they would talk while they ate, but Hermione had a book laid out on the counter and was reading intently as she carefully moved bites of food to her mouth. Harry couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds as he watched her mouth open and a fork-full of salad ever so slowly move past her lips. Her mouth closed on the metal and her lips dragged just slightly as the fork was pulled back out.  
  
Harry felt a much more intense blush color his cheeks as he looked back at his own food.  
  
_What the hell are you doing, Potter,_ he thought to himself. _This is about ten different kinds of trouble. You absolutely cannot be thinking about Hermione like that right now. Ron will hate your very existence, Hermione will be frustrated because she just got out of a relationship, and you… you will do the same thing you did to Ginny. Drive her away._  
  
Harry glanced up at Hermione again and saw her still engrossed in the text in front of her.  
  
_As odd as it is, you know that this last half hour has felt more vibrant than the last half year. Don’t fuck this up._  
  
Harry returned to his meal and made to finish it.  
  
“Eat slower,” Hermione’s voice called out distractedly. Harry froze. “You’re eating too fast, eat slower.”  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione again. She wasn’t even looking at him… how had she…? He started moving the fork to his mouth much slower, keeping pace with her instead of setting his own.  
  
“Good boy,” she muttered, turning the page.  
  
Harry flushed for a third time, his eyes locking on the bowl in front of him. Merlin, why was this meal feeling so… sexual to him? It was so foreign and fucked up, but so… exactly what he wanted at the same time. There was something that Hermione was doing that no other girl had ever done that was making it very difficult for him to keep his resolve about ‘acting natural’.  
  
“Er,” Harry started unsure, “what’s… next?” He pushed the last bite of his meal into his mouth and started chewing just as Hermione looked up. She glanced at his face then looked down to his bowl.  
  
“Excellent, you ate everything.” Hermione placed a bookmark in her dinner reading material and closed it before stepping to the side. “Go clean the living room and entryway. It was in a terrible state when I arrived.”  
  
Harry nodded and started to move towards the indicated room, but was stopped when Hermione spoke again.  
  
“Harry,” she said in a sing-song voice. “When you follow directions it’s polite to acknowledge them.”  
  
“Oh, right,” Harry replied, his brows furrowing. “I’ll go… clean the living room then.” He waited until he saw Hermione nod before continuing on his way.  
  
###  
  
Harry was absolutely baffled. It had been three days since Hermione had arrived at his door with a new apparent purpose to her life. Namely, to control his. But, Harry reasoned, seeing as he hadn’t really been controlling it, he supposed it wasn’t too bad for her to do so.  
  
Truth be told, the whole situation had become more and more… confusing. He hadn’t really noticed at first, but he had now come to realize that all of her instructions, her strict timetables, and her persistence were something his body apparently found… arousing. When she had first arrived, he had assumed that his arousal was due to him being a healthy, young bloke who hadn’t been getting anything for ages… while she was an attractive, available young woman who was constantly in his close proximity. Then later on, he had thought it was simply because he’d known her for so long and knew her so well; that he was transferring his familiarity for sexual attraction.  
  
Certainly those were both part of it. But over that first day he’d noticed that another part of it was how much he simply enjoyed being given direction. Not just by anyone, he didn’t feel pleased when the Ministry tried to control him for instance. But when she did… it did something terrible and wonderful to him. This realization sent a fresh wave of shame and self-doubt through him that lingered the entire day after. What self-respecting person would _get off_ in any way on being controlled like she was doing to him? In fact he was certain that a large part of her plan was for him to find it unpleasant, and in doing so find the motivation to take care of all these things himself.  
  
He was going to have to disappoint her. Every time she had given him an instruction he’d felt more and more comfortable, more and more at ease. It was so simple, and it was so pleasant. It just felt right. He’d noticed moments of confusion from her about it. Moments where she had clearly been thinking something along the lines of ‘but… that was supposed to upset him and make him take control of that part of his life’. For the second and third day she’d progressively gotten ‘worse’ about it, although Harry secretly found it more and more pleasing instead.  
  
She’d sent him to bed at a specific time, then woken him up at another. On the second day she’d made him show her his closet and chosen what he would wear. When that hadn’t gotten a rise out of him, or at least not the rise she had been anticipating, she’d timed him brushing his teeth. On the third day she’d taken to using more and more terms that one might use when training a dog, which Harry knew must be exactly what she was thinking. Instances of her telling him ‘good boy’ or ‘speak, Harry’ had risen considerably, but every escalation had only heightened Harry’s experience of the situation, and now on the fourth day he found himself a bit stuck.  
  
Clearly Hermione had been hoping to kick him into action, not for him to relax into her control over his life, and he desperately didn’t want her to find out what exactly the reason was that he was behaving that was. Truly, he didn’t really understand it himself. He could describe the feelings and sensations, but he couldn’t describe why he was feeling them or why he wanted to keep feeling them. Even so, he felt an… unnaturalness to his reactions. It was the first time he’d ever really felt that way about himself, even though his Aunt and Uncle had declared it to be so many times as he was growing up.  
  
Normal people didn’t feel sexual arousal from being told what to do, did they? He’d never heard of that before, and it certainly didn’t seem like the kind of thing that matched up with him being a man and all. Men weren’t supposed to enjoy being controlled… hell, Harry _hadn’t_ enjoyed being controlled at all before. He’d resented the control other people had over him nearly his entire childhood, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was different about it now.  
  
All of this meant that he couldn’t allow Hermione to figure out what was happening to him when she told him to do things. That was going to be a problem though, as Hermione was about the smartest person he had ever known, and he knew that she would eventually figure it out the same way he knew that the sky was blue and water was wet.  
  
“Come, Harry,” Hermione called out forcefully from the bottom of the stairs. He was moving towards her almost before she finished speaking. “We’re going out to get some groceries.”  
  
###  
  
Hermione glanced at the man walking in front of her in the supermarket every so often, her face filled with confusion. Something wasn’t going according to her plan, and she couldn’t figure out what. Everything she had ever learned about Harry told her that he should be angry and frustrated by now, taking control over his life if only to keep her from doing so. But he wasn’t. If anything he was becoming more comfortable with following her orders.  
  
At first she thought this had just been his apathy, but now she wasn’t so sure. She’d pushed it a little far, using some techniques that she’d read about how to train dogs on him without any subtlety. But he hadn’t shrunk from it, or fought it, or swelled with anger. He just seemed… content. Like she was making him happy.  
  
Hermione glanced at Harry again, as if trying to find a post-it note stuck to him somewhere that might explain his behavior. But there was nothing in his appearance that gave her any clues to what was happening or why Harry was behaving so differently from what she expected.  
  
They went down the isles of the market, and Hermione gave him instructions on what to put in the cart following behind. Each time she spoke he seemed to perk up slightly for a few moments, and each time her frown returned. By the time they were checking out with their food, Hermione was certain that there was something she was missing, and she was equally certain that Harry already knew what it was.  
  
Her mind kept working on the issue as the apparated back to the house, and as she watched Harry happily put away the groceries, as she had instructed, she decided it was time to talk.  
  
“Harry, stop,” she said firmly. He immediately stopped putting the groceries away, his hands frozen in the air. “Turn around.” He complied rapidly, setting the cans down on the counter before turning. She furrowed her brows again, looking him up and down. What was she missing? She looked back up to his face and noticed his face was red. “Are you alright?” she asked in a concerned voice. “You look a bit ill.”  
  
“Oh,” he let out softly. “No, Hermione, I’m fine.”  
  
She frowned at his mumbled reply. It didn’t sound like a lie, but it didn’t sound like the truth either.  
  
“What’s going on, Harry?” she asked him earnestly. “You… I know that you understand what I’m doing. I expected you to be a storm of frustration by this point, but you’re just… you’re just going along with it.” Her brows furrowed again. “I don’t get it. You almost seem _happy_ to do what I’m telling you.”  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably.  
  
“It’s… it’s simple, Hermione,” he mumbled. “To just… do what you say. I don’t really have a problem with doing things I just… I don’t want to motivate myself to do them.”  
  
“Perhaps this was a mistake,” Hermione said, her frown deepening. “You weren’t supposed to become _more_ comfortable with being unmotivated. Perhaps I should leave—”  
  
“No!” Harry nearly shouted. He winced and lowered his voice. “Please don’t leave, Hermione.” He looked down at his feet for a few moments and Hermione saw a debate of some kind waging itself inside him. “Just… can we keep doing this? For now?”  
  
“I don’t know, Harry… it doesn’t seem healthy.” She watched as an expression of guilt or shame crossed his face. “Why do you want to keep doing this?”  
  
“Look,” Harry told her, looking up and fixing her with an intense stare. It made her heart flutter slightly. It had been such a long time since anyone had given her a look like that. “I… I know this isn’t exactly…” He paused and seemed to lose his words for a few moments, running his hand through his hair. “I know that me enjoying this situation is… unnatural… but it’s exactly what I needed. You weren’t wrong, Hermione. You didn’t do the wrong thing.”  
  
Harry shifted again, but there was something about the way he moved that caught Hermione’s attention. It reminded her of something Ron did when… Hermione’s eyes widened. Was Harry attracted to her? She supposed it was possible, they were both healthy, young, heterosexual people and they did care for each other deeply, but she hadn’t ever seen any indication from him before that he might be interested.  
  
Hermione’s eyes flitted down towards his waist before she could stop them, and she thought she saw what might be evidence of his current state. She looked back at his face and his eyes were on her, so he had definitely seen her glance.  
  
“Harry, am I… making you uncomfortable?”  
  
A few seconds of silence passed between them before Harry frowned and glanced away.  
  
“No, Hermione.”  
  
“Am I…” she paused and Harry looked back at her. The way he was looking at her, it was like he wanted something from her, like he needed something from her. She wet her lips with her tongue unconsciously, nervously. “Am I making you… _too_ comfortable?”  
  
She watched Harry’s face light up in red and he looked away, and after several seconds it was apparent that he couldn’t give her an answer. At least, a verbal answer. His actions had given her all the answer she needed.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Hermione started softly, “what that would have to do with you being so compliant.” She waited for him to look back at her, his face still rosy. “Does the fact that you find me attractive make you want to do whatever I say?”  
  
“That’s…” Harry struggled for several seconds. “It’s… I think it’s the other way around… perhaps.”  
  
_The other way around?_ Hermione thought, confused. _So… telling him what to do… is making him more attracted to me?_  
  
“I don’t understand, Harry,” she told him gently.  
  
“I’m sorry Hermione, I know I’m a freak, can we just… forget about this? Go back to what we were doing?”  
  
He looked so obviously uncomfortable, but it was the use of the word ‘freak’ that tipped Hermione off as to what may be happening. _He’s becoming sexually aroused because I’m being bossy?_ Hermione found herself at a loss. This wasn’t something she’d ever heard of, but at the same time her parents had always expressed to her that there was no wrong way to express or experience sexuality as long as everyone agreed to it and no one was being hurt. She needed time to think, and she needed more information.  
  
“Put the rest of the groceries away, Harry,” she told him firmly. “I’m going to go investigate something. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”  
  
He turned around and returned to his task with a sigh, and the expression on his face tugged at Hermione’s heart. He clearly thought that he had done something wrong, screwed something up. She wanted to comfort him, to let him know it was okay, but she felt lost and out of her depth right now, and Hermione had always had trouble making decisions in that state.  
  
She grabbed her bag and walked out the front door. She was going to make a trip to the library. Perhaps one of the computers would have information? Or there might be a book on the subject? She needed to know what the path forward was, and what was happening, and the library was the place Hermione always started for that.  
  
###  
  
Harry heard the front door close and let out a large breath. He had completely fucked _everything_ up. In the end, his relatives had been right, there was just something about him that was too unnatural for him to be around other people. Why had Hermione come into his little bubble of seclusion? Clearly he was too strange to be around people all the time, so it had been a good thing that he’d been withdrawn and adrift.  
  
Harry finished with the groceries and turned around to ask what to do next, only to realize again that Hermione was gone. A deep feeling of self-loathing burned through him. Even now he was still craving that simplicity and comfort. Even though it had just fucked up one of the only relationships he still had with another person, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting it, from expecting it.  
  
He looked around the house, feeling lost. What was he going to do for the rest of the night? Having that prepared and firm direction suddenly removed was jarring, and he had no clue how to engage anything else around him without it. With another sigh, Harry walked up the stairs to his room and lay down in the bed.  
  
For hours he rolled from side to side, his mind providing a constant stream of recrimination. At first it had simply been limited to his apparent destruction of his relationship with Hermione, but as the time passed it moved on to other things. To how he wasn’t really a man for feeling this way, for enjoying it. That it made him less impressive as a person, or that it meant he didn’t deserve as much out of life. Perhaps that was why he’d been wasting away in his house? That he had subconsciously understood it was how things should be?  
  
Harry’s thoughts were paused when he heard the front door close. She’d come back? He listened closely as she walked through the hallway, went into her room, and gently closed the door behind her.  
  
_She doesn’t have anywhere else to go tonight,_ he realized. He heard that sound, the sound of her door closing behind her, echo in his mind over and over, and for the first time in years he felt himself begin to cry tears of sadness and loss.  
  
###  
  
Hermione laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. It had taken hours, and she’d had to ask the librarian several questions to be pointed in the right direction, but Hermione thought she understood what was going on with Harry now, and she was utterly baffled about what to do. Could she do what he wanted? Did she _want_ to do what he wanted? Did he even _understand_ what he wanted?  
  
She was fairly certain the answer to that last question was ‘no’, but if that was the only problem it was easily solved. The more pertinent ones were the first two questions. Could she do what he wanted.  
  
_Well, yes, I suppose I could,_ she thought it over in her head. _I’ve been controlling him almost like a Domme does for the last several days, haven’t I? And I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed having someone be so… compliant?… obedient?_ She scrunched up her face. _Have I been enjoying it in the same way though?_  
  
Hermione knew that she hadn’t been exactly aroused by ordering Harry around, but after reading up on the subject all day, she wondered if maybe that was because she hadn’t been in the right mindset. It also could have easily been because of how focused she was on what she had been trying to accomplish. That was another question though… would giving into what he wanted be healthy for him, or would it just exacerbate the problem she had originally seen?  
  
_The real problem he has is connection with other people,_ she reasoned. _I don’t think this would be harmful because it would definitely create a strong connection with another person, and that’s the thing that he was lacking most of all._ She felt herself blush slightly. _A connection to me…_  
  
It ended up being a much more complicated subject than Hermione had anticipated, and she was still wondering at just how much effort and work she would have to put in if she decided to do this. But still… she felt her first question was answered. Yes, she could in fact do what he wanted. But did she want to?  
  
_He’ll be worried about Ron,_ she quickly realized. _But he hasn’t contacted either of us in weeks, and honestly I’ve moved on._ She scowled. _I moved on months ago while we were still together, that was part of the problem._ She considered her own feelings again. _It could be… interesting. It would certainly be something I haven’t done before, and I can’t imagine doing it with someone I don’t know as well as Harry._  
  
But was it okay to start a relationship? Hermione wasn’t certain that she was ready for that, and she wasn’t certain that she wanted that either. So how would she be able to meet Harry’s, er, sexual needs without starting a relationship?  
  
_I could focus just on the control for now, keep things platonic between us._ She nodded her head, liking the idea. _And it would help me figure out just how much of this ‘bossiness’ is something that I would… enjoy bringing into a relationship in the future._  
  
So… yes, she did want to do those things. Or at least, some of them.  
  
Her mind made up, Hermione turned over and settled in to sleep. She needed to be refreshed for the conversation they would be having tomorrow morning.  
  
###  
  
“Time to get up, Harry!” Hermione shouted next to his bed. Harry shot up, confused and disoriented, before reaching for his glasses. As he put them on he turned to face her and fixed her with a look of sorrow and guilt that Hermione was startled by. “Get dressed and come downstairs, Harry,” she told him carefully. “We have to finish our discussion.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry muttered. Hermione frowned. Over the last several days his acknowledgments of her instructions had taken on a kind of exuberance that had been endearing, and now that Hermione had researched the subject, rather revealing. But that one had been so… apathetic. Like the way he had been before.  
  
“Right…” she said, looking at him for a few more seconds before walking out of the room. She waited for him in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee and taking a few sips. A few minutes later Harry shuffled into the kitchen looking more moody than he’d been the entire time she’d been staying there.  
  
“What would you like for breakfast, _Hermione_ ,” Harry asked. Her eyebrows shot up at the note of derision in his voice at her name. What exactly was going on?  
  
“Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked. Harry turned to the stove and started pulling some eggs out, an utterly humorless laugh escaping him.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” he said far more lightly than his demeanor warranted. “Just looking forward to getting back to my simple existence when you leave.”  
  
“Is that what you’re on about?” Hermione asked him annoyed. “Harry, look at me.”  
  
Hermione stared at him with a bit of shock as for the first time since she’d arrive he _ignored her_. She felt a sense of loss inside her, and she immediately understood something she had been unsure of last night. Yes, she did in fact enjoy controlling him like this, and yes, she very much wanted that to continue. Her expression hardened.  
  
“Harry. James. Potter,” she said in a low voice that expressed just how dangerous it would be for him to ignore her again. She watched in satisfaction as he completely froze. “Turn. Around.”  
  
Harry set down the items in his hands and turned to face her with wide eyes. He was angry, and confused, and frustrated, but he couldn’t help the fact that her demand had been unbearably arousing. He very much _didn’t_ want to be aroused right now, but he simply couldn’t help it. She looked down at his waist and he knew she would easily see the effect it had on him once more. What he didn’t expect is for a devious looking smile to spread on her face as she looked back up at him.  
  
“Good boy.” She studied him for several seconds. “Were you concerned I was just going to up and leave? Just because you’re a sexual submissive?”  
  
“Well I…” Harry stopped short. “A… a _what_?”  
  
“A sexual submissive, Harry,” she told him plainly. “You’re getting turned on by the fact that I’m bossing you around, right?”  
  
Harry didn’t answer her, but he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer to that question.  
  
“It’s not _unnatural_ Harry, in fact it’s so common that there’s a whole section for it at the library.” She watched as Harry’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s where I went. Did you think I was running away? Does that _at all_ match the girl you became friends with years ago?”  
  
“No…” he mumbled, feeling a bit foolish now for ever thinking so.  
  
“I went to the library, because Hermione Granger doesn’t do anything without knowing what she is getting into,” she told him. “And yes, it is a natural thing, there are many people that feel the way you feel.” Hermione watched him shift uncomfortably, realizing what he was thinking. “Yes, even other men.”  
  
Harry’s shoulders slumped. She had known exactly what was going through his head, but shouldn’t he have expected that? She’d always been able to read him, sometimes even when he didn’t really know what was going on.  
  
“So then…” he gave her a searching look. “Where do we go from here?”  
  
“Clearly what you need is some rules,” Hermione told him. “Some more… appropriate rules for how you have been experiencing this whole thing.”  
  
Harry had a feeling like electricity run through him, like every cell in his body was suddenly paying attention to the words Hermione was saying.  
  
“And what… rules would those be?”  
  
Hermione paused for a moment. This was it, the point at which things would be… different. But she had never really been one to hesitate.  
  
“When you want to have a wank,” she said, having to stifle a giggle at his reaction to the word, “you will come and ask me for permission. Do you understand Harry?”  
  
Harry’s face was beet red, and it looked for several seconds like he was having trouble forming words.  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he mumbled looking down.  
  
“Good,” she replied in a satisfied tone. “Now, get back to making us breakfast.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he replied, this time much more comfortably. For a few minutes she just watched him cook. Now that she had started down this path it was obvious to her that she… enjoyed it in the same way he did. And watching him work she began to appreciate things she hadn’t noticed before, like how enticing his behind looked while he worked the stove. “I don’t understand how I got this way,” Harry’s voice called out, startling her out of her blatant ogling. But he hadn’t turned around, so he hadn’t seen that she was staring.  
  
“You mean how you became a sexual submissive?” she asked.  
  
“Yes,” he said.  
  
“It’s not really something that happens to you,” Hermione explained. “All the literature on this was rather clear. It’s just a preference that some people have. You don’t question how you came to like treacle tart, do you? You just do.”  
  
“I suppose,” Harry agreed cautiously. “But it’s not something I’ve ever experienced with someone else.” There were a few seconds of silence before he let out a soft chuckle and turned his head to glance at her. “Perhaps you damaged me sexually back in our first and second year with all your bossiness, Hermione.”  
  
“Is that so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry’s eyes widened and he turned back to the stove in a hurry. Hermione stood up from her chair and walked over until she was standing right behind him. She was certain that he knew she was there, she could see the tension all over his body. “Well,” she said softly, watching him jump slightly at the sound of her voice with some satisfaction. “If I really damaged you like you claim, I suppose that just means that you’re mine, doesn’t it?”  
  
Harry turned around slowly to look at Hermione, an expression of wonder and apprehension on his face. She couldn’t help it… she smirked back up at him.  
  
“You know what they say, Potter,” she said in cheerful voice before dropping her tone into almost a whisper. “I broke it, I bought it.”  
  
###  
  
**Author's Note:** Well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Honestly, this is one of my favorite chapters I've ever written. Please leave me a comment about your thoughts as well, whatever, they may be.   
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	3. Finding A New Normal

Chapter 3  
Finding A New Normal  
  
###  
  
Harry hadn’t ever really thought of himself as a ponderer. He didn’t often sit around and consider things from several different sides, or carefully work through how he felt about something. Not that he couldn’t, it just wasn’t how he usually did things. The last few days though had forced Harry into a great deal of introspection that he didn’t normally engage in.  
  
Part of it, perhaps, was that the haze of the last two years had been mostly lifted. Looking back at it now, he could see that while he hadn’t exactly been depressed, he had also kind of been refusing to live. To experience things. Perhaps he just needed some rest after experiencing things non-stop his entire childhood? That was the answer Harry had come up with that made the most sense to him. Regardless, with this newfound desire to analyze himself, he had been almost singularly focused on what had been happening over the last few weeks.  
  
It had started so… simple. Just a lunch with Hermione here and there. Looking back on it now he felt like he understood why she had been so concerned about him and frustrated with his behavior. While he definitely understood why he’d found just drifting through life to be preferable, he also felt like he understood how that might rub others the wrong way now. Especially Hermione.  
  
Then about a week ago she’d started enacting her plan to cure him of that fogginess. It had worked, though perhaps not in the ways she had intended. Harry had obviously been startled to find himself enjoying the controlling behavior of one of his best friends, but the intense experience of emotion after nearly two years of numbness had been very difficult to handle. Harry had found himself swinging between thoughts and feelings faster than he even realized it was happening, and at times it left him listless and unsure of what to do or say next.  
  
He could remember how his heart had clenched at the thought that Hermione was going to leave, just like Ginny had. In the end though, he’d forgotten that Ginny and Hermione were very different people. While Ginny may have gotten bored, and annoyed, and walked away, that just wasn’t the way Hermione worked. No, instead their… whatever this was had gotten even more surreal.  
  
Since that morning Harry had been, er, _enjoying_ Hermione’s direction more and more, but he had yet to act on the one rule she’d given him. A part of him felt a bit offended at the idea of _asking_ someone if he could wank, but every time he thought about rebelling against that order his mind played out fantasy after fantasy where he asked permission, and they were some of the most arousing fantasies he’d ever had. Which was a problem, since he hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to actually ask for a wank yet.  
  
Instead they both had spent the last three days in a kind of limbo filled with anticipation and nerves. It was clear to Harry that Hermione was just as unfamiliar about this new direction as he was, but that was only because he knew her so well. She was, in fact, doing an impressive job of maintaining a firm and controlling personality around him. That led into one of the other things that was bothering him however: he was clearly and undeniably lusting after her. Whenever he pictured what might happen next, it always involved her doing entirely inappropriate things to him, and Harry was scared about what might happen if he acted on any of those impulses.  
  
Sure, Hermione had taken this whole thing to a new and different place when they were in the kitchen a few days ago, but… their interactions since had been very asexual.  
  
Harry looked around the sitting room, trying to see if anything was out of place. Over the last few days Hermione had taken to ‘inspecting his work’, and it if wasn’t done to her satisfaction she would make him do it again. At least she let him use magic to clean…  
  
_Merlin,_ Harry thought, his eyes widening. _Let me use magic?_  
  
This was exactly the kind of thing that had been so confounding over the last few days. Little thoughts here and there that made him pause and really consider _why_ he was thinking them. Whatever books Hermione had read about being a, er, ‘sexual submissive’ seemed to have given her clarity on the whole situation, because she didn’t seem surprised or phased by how things had adjusted. Unpracticed? Certainly. But lacking confidence or direction? No. Not at all.  
  
_Perhaps I should ask Hermione if I can read those books as well…_ Harry smiled at that. He couldn’t imagine Hermione denying him a book that he’d actually asked for, especially when it contained material that was personally applicable to him.  
  
Harry glanced around the room once more, finally deciding that he was confident with the job he had done. Unfortunately that left no distractions for the thought he had been avoiding.  
  
_I really, really want to have a wank,_ Harry thought, looking around the room and hoping to spot a mess. _This is going to be a bit mortifying, but… it’s been three days._  
  
Steeling himself as much as he could, Harry walked down the hallway and knocked on Hermione’s door. Over the last week he really had stopped thinking about it as his room that Hermione was using. He honestly didn’t want her to leave, and if that meant she needed a room that was just hers, Harry was certainly willing to make that trade.  
  
Harry’s thoughts were jarred once again by the sound of knocking and it took him a moment to realize it had been him knocking on Hermione’s door.  
  
“Come in,” her voice called out from inside. Harry opened the door slowly, his resolve leaving him as the reality of what he was about to do, what he was looking forward to doing even, came back to him. He stood there, eyes unfocused for several seconds before Hermione cleared her throat and he looked up.  
  
She was sitting at her desk, although Harry had been sure there wasn’t a desk in here when she arrived. Come to think of it, the whole room was quite different. There were bookshelves on the walls, which anyone who knew Hermione might have predicted, but there were also other touches. On the wall was a poster of a very English looking gentleman concentrating on a chessboard with his name, Nigel Short, in text below. There was also a poster in black and white of a woman that Harry didn’t recognize, though this one didn’t have any helpful text. Next to the window Hermione’s owl Curie was cleaning her feathers.  
  
“Can I help you Harry?”  
  
He startled, realizing that his attention had wandered again. Merlin this was getting bad, he was becoming unfocused all the time and he really needed to relieve himself… which was of course why he was here.  
  
“Erm… yes, Hermione. Sorry.”  
  
Harry gazed at her and saw an expectant look on her face, encouraging but not demanding. He let out a sigh, feeling some of his anxiety melt away, and decided to just press forward.  
  
“I want to have a wank,” Harry stated abruptly, looking away with a red face almost as soon as he finished. But not before he saw a look of satisfaction cross her face.  
  
“Do you now?” she asked thoughtfully. “How long have you been putting off asking me, Harry?”  
  
“Uh…” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t… well…”  
  
“Come on then,” Hermione said in a cheery sort of voice. “Out with it!”  
  
“Merlin Hermione, nearly since the moment you made the rule!”  
  
There was several seconds of silence as they stared at each other, and Harry thought for a moment perhaps he had offended her or said something wrong. But then she nodded, a gentle smile forming on her lips.  
  
“As I suspected,” she said, shifting into her lecturing tone. “Have you been having nocturnal emissions? Those tend to happen when a man doesn’t wank regularly.”  
  
“Hermione!” Harry choked, feeling his embarrassment climb to new heights.  
  
“It’s a simple question Harry,” she said, crossing her arms and looking at him deadpan. “Your body doesn’t stop making sperm just because you’re too embarrassed to come ask your Domme for permission to touch yourself.”  
  
“My… my what?”  
  
“Your Domme,” she explained. “We’ve established that you get off on being bossed around, at least by me. From what I read, the person that does that for the submissive is called the dominant, or Domme for short.”  
  
“I… I see.” Harry wasn’t sure if she expected him to say more, but if she did, he had no clue what it might be.  
  
“The question, Harry,” she said in a warning sort of tone.  
  
“Question? Oh!” Harry blushed again. “Er… no, I haven’t had any, um… wet dreams.”  
  
“Good,” she said, although she didn’t seem to want to explain how it was good. “Well?”  
  
“Well… er… what?”  
  
“Ask the question,” Hermione provided, exasperated.  
  
“But… I did,” Harry protested.  
  
“No,” she replied. “You didn’t ask, you told me what you would like to do.”  
  
Harry thought back. She was right, he had just kind of blurted what he wanted instead of asking a question, but still he felt like his intent was pretty clear.  
  
“Why… uh, why do I have to ask like that?”  
  
Hermione scrutinized his face for several moments before her expression softened.  
  
“Harry, you’ve been… excited by what we’ve been doing, right?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
“And you want it to continue?”  
  
“Yes…”  
  
“Then please, don’t answer immediately, but really think: will it be more… exciting for you to have to actually ask properly, or does it not matter to you?”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself and considered her question like she’d suggested. It was true that a part of him was just frustrated and wanted to relieve the frustration, but her question touched on some things similar to the fantasies that had been running through his head the last few days. He pictured himself walking up to Hermione every so often and simply stating desire to wank himself, then pictured himself asking every time and waiting on her reply.  
  
With a rush Harry realized that she was right… the second option sounded much more exciting, even if it was more embarrassing. But truthfully, Hermione didn’t seem embarrassed by it, and if she wasn’t then perhaps he could find a way to get over it as well.  
  
“I see,” Harry said in a much more conversational tone than he thought possible only moments before. “Hermione?”  
  
“Yes, Harry?”  
  
“May I read the book that you found on this… er… subject?”  
  
She looked at him with a grin before turning and picking up a plain looking text from one of the shelves.  
  
“Of course Harry,” she told him, handing the book over.  
  
“And… Hermione?”  
  
“Yes, Harry?”  
  
“May I… please go wank myself?” Harry felt his pants tighten once more and couldn’t maintain his comfortable facade enough to stop the heat that rose in his cheeks. Hermione looked at him carefully, as if she was inspecting him for violations of some kind of dress code, before slowly nodding.  
  
“Do it in your room, make sure to clean up afterward, and be downstairs in 10 minutes to make dinner. If you’re not downstairs in 10 minutes I’ll be coming up to your room, and if I come in you’ll be required to make yourself decent, no matter how close you are to, ah, ‘finishing’.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and he turned on his heels dashing out of the room. He didn’t think it would take him more than 10 minutes, but he most certainly didn’t want to be left with blue balls.  
  
###  
  
Hermione let out a strained breath as she heard Harry’s footsteps climbing up the stairs to his room. There had been something marvelous about this week, but it was also stressful. The books had made the whole prospect seem rather simple: just boss Harry around and every so often he’d get his rocks off on it. Likely thinking about her, but she politely ignored that fact. She wasn’t attached right now and she didn’t begrudge people their fantasies, even if they were about her.  
  
The whole thing had been far from simple however. She hadn’t truly appreciated the difference between just being, well, _forceful_ with someone and being a dominant for them. True, there were many similarities, but there were some key differences as well. The whole thing was innately a sexually charged endeavor, and while she didn’t really have any _problem_ with that not being terribly prude herself, it still built up a certain kind of… stress. She liked to think that she was rather sexually liberated actually, but she hadn’t been prepared for just how arousing she would find the whole thing as well. Nor had she been prepared for her own fantasies to begin featuring a compliant and obedient Harry, hard and aching from all the teasing she — No, she was just worked up from the dry spell after the breakup and the bad sex she’d been having with Ron for months prior to that.  
  
Their relationship really had deteriorated long before it had finally ended she was coming to realize.  
  
No, Harry was just a _convenient_ and _unfairly attractive_ man who happened to be nearby. And happened to be someone she knew very well… and also seemed to be wrapped around her little finger.  
  
Okay, so _perhaps_ it was acceptable for her to _occasionally_ fantasize about him in this situation. He was doing the same thinking about her, wasn’t he?  
  
She hadn’t really anticipated how complicated this whole situation would end up being. They were friends, and Harry was in a tough spot right now, and she was helping him work himself out of it. She couldn’t… she couldn’t very well go from dating one childhood friend to the other. Where was the imagination in that? How pathetic was she that the only romantic interests she pursued were people she knew since she was 11?  
  
Well, they weren’t dating in any case. She was… well… teasing him she supposed. Working him up. He didn’t seem to be in any kind of state to engage in a real relationship anyway, and with the way things were turning out she wasn’t sure that he would be any time soon. A part of her worried that perhaps he wasn’t truly this submissive, and that she was in fact taking advantage of someone who was vulnerable and confused. _That_ question would require a conversation with Harry that she wasn’t really looking forward to.  
  
All of that was stressful, but the thing that was bothering her the most at the moment was how much she was _enjoying_ this. She couldn’t let herself enjoy it this much, because it would only end in disappointment. Perhaps, back in fourth year and fifth year Hermione had thought that Harry might notice her, might see something in her, but in the end he had been a shallow, fickle boy when it came to women. She had moved on. She had _moved on_.  
  
She had been in love with Ron, or at least… well, she didn’t have anything else to compare it to, but she felt pretty certain it had been love.  
  
But she had slipped into this role so easily, so effortlessly, so _naturally_. Not just as the dominant, all of it. Helping Harry with his personal problems, helping him to face something difficult, giving him the type of emotional support that he needed that no one else seemed able to provide him. It had just seemed so simple to live here since she’d showed up at Harry’s door, and it was almost troubling how smoothly she had slipped into the new places they found themselves.  
  
Hermione checked the time and realized it had already been six minutes. She needed to go down to the kitchen and wait, and if Harry took too long? Well… then she needed to make good on her promise.  
  
_It might be interesting to edge him,_ she thought idly, before she realized what she’d been thinking and felt a blush color her cheeks. _Merlin, this is becoming far too easy and normal._ She walked out into the kitchen and sat down to patiently wait.  
  
_The books did make edging sound rather interesting though… if I had him do it over the course of a few days it’s supposed to really work him up. Maybe that would break him of the shyness?_ She considered the idea some more before dismissing it. _No, we’re… well we’re some weird form of platonic where he asks me to wank, but that seems like the kind of thing that crosses some invisible line. Ron won’t talk to me, I can’t risk the only real friend I have left… can I?_  
  
That didn’t stop the idea from being intriguing though, and Hermione found herself mulling some of the other things she had read about.  
  
_I wonder what Harry’s opinions on things in his ass might be?_ She couldn’t help but let out a good laugh at the thought. _His opinion is undoubtedly, in order, ‘I never considered that’ and then ‘that sounds terrifying’, I’m sure. Still… I wonder just how much of a sexual submissive he really is. Although, I guess you don’t really have to be a submissive to enjoy anal play, but still it probably helps._  
  
Hermione glanced at the clock. He had two minutes left.  
  
_Some of the things I read about would require equipment though. I wonder how expensive it would be… It doesn’t really matter though, because he’s not really my sub. We’re just… relieving some stress… and having some fun… and forgetting about the rest of the world for a while._  
  
Her eyes glanced towards the stairs, then back to the clock.  
  
_Speaking of relieving some stress…_  
  
It had been 10 minutes. A part of her was shamefully thrilled that she was going to get to edge him even though they weren’t a proper Domme and sub… but she _had_ warned him, and 10 minutes did seem like more than enough to rub one out…  
  
Standing in front of his door a few moments later she was about to knock when she paused to find out if she could hear him inside.  
  
“Fuck,” she heard muffled through the door. “Hermione…”  
  
She flushed at hearing her own name on his lips, but it gave her the resolve to take action. Perhaps… she _could_ risk it.  
  
“Hermione is here!” she said loudly, hearing a yelp from inside. “And you got 12 minutes instead of 10! You have 5 seconds until I open the door, and you’d better be decent when I do!”  
  
Hermione heard frantic scrambling from inside, but she wasn’t counting. She was just going to wait until the scrambling noises stopped and barge in like he’d barely managed it in time. In surprisingly short order she heard the noises stop and shoved the door open with force.  
  
“Such a naughty boy,” she said playfully as she walked in. The rest of her words caught in her throat though, because the smell of sex, the smell of Harry’s arousal, a sweaty, musky scent, was completely overpowering in the room. She took several deep breaths, truly savoring the smell, before she realized what she was doing and her eyes snapped to him. He looked entirely disheveled, and obviously frustrated, though it seemed more frustrated with himself than with her.  
  
“Can you not accomplish the task in 10 minutes Harry?” she asked gently. Perhaps her instructions had been too harsh. It certainly took her longer than 10 minutes sometimes, though she had thought men could handle that sort of thing quicker.  
  
“No, Hermione,” he answered in a disgruntled tone.  
  
“Well,” she said, trying to collect her thoughts into that confident, strong person she knew a proper Domme was supposed to be. “Go downstairs and make dinner. If you take care of all of your chores, and ask nicely, I might let you, ah, ‘try again’ after.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry said, shuffling past.  
  
As soon as he was through the door she let out a large breath. It was hard to keep the proper persona when she didn’t rightly know what exactly he wanted and what exactly he enjoyed.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his room again, relaxing. It was novel to be allowed, expected even, to take liberties like this. Yes, she was definitely starting to enjoy being a Domme.  
  
###  
  
Harry shut his door behind him having run from Hermione’s room to his own, breathing heavily, and looked at his bed for several seconds. That exchange, asking for permission, had been exhilarating in some rather unique ways, and he was eager to make good on the permission Hermione had granted him.  
  
Shedding his clothes as he stumbled over, Harry was soon naked and reached down, wasting no time gripping himself and starting his familiar routine.  
  
_Fuck that feels so good,_ he thought after a few strokes. _Is it just because I’ve been resisting having a wank for so long?_  
  
Harry didn’t really care. It felt amazing, and that was the important part at the moment. As he started finding a pleasant rhythm, his mind drifted almost immediately to Hermione. At first he replayed some of the things she had just said.  
  
_‘Your body doesn’t stop making sperm just because you won’t ask’… Merlin why is it so hot when she embarrasses me like that?_  
  
That thought quickly spawned an entirely original fantasy however. A fantasy where Hermione wasn’t just making him ask permission, but was carefully tracking his activities while engaged. He closed his eyes and his imagination took over.  
  
_Harry lays down, naked and shivering in front of Hermione. She has that sassy smirk she’d given him a few times, and it’s turning his stomach end over end.  
  
“Start stroking Harry,” she commands, staring at his cock amused. His hands obey even as his mind feels overwhelmed, and he can’t prevent the small sound of pleasure that escapes his lips after the first tug. “Making slutty noises I see,” she comments.  
  
“Yes Hermione,” he replies hoarsely.  
  
“Keep making them.”  
  
So he does, loudly. He feels his hips jerk a bit involuntarily, and Hermione giggles, leaning in close to get a better look.  
  
“You have precum on the tip, Harry.”  
  
He shudders as he feels her fingertip trail along the head, pulling away the bead of clearish liquid.  
  
“Fuck…”  
  
“No, Harry,” Hermione says playfully. “I didn’t give you permission to fuck, I gave you permission to wank.”  
  
“Yes Hermione!” Harry shouts.  
  
“Good boy,” she tells him._  
  
Harry stroked himself faster as he shuddered at the fantasy playing out in his mind. He was definitely getting closer, but the fantasy was so appealing he was lost in it.  
  
_Harry hears Hermione making a wet smacking sound and looks down to see her pull her finger out of her mouth, a pleased expression on her face.  
  
“See if you can make some more of that delicious precum, Harry.”  
  
“Yes Hermione!”  
  
Harry strokes himself several more times before hearing Hermione making a cooing sound.  
  
“Excellent work Harry, I see some now.”  
  
Harry yelps as he feels Hermione’s tongue flick across his head, wiping the droplet off._  
  
“Fuck, Hermione…” Harry moaned loudly, unable to distinguish between the fantasy girl and the real one in the heat of that moment.  
  
“Hermione is here!” Harry heard her voice from beyond his door. A second later he realized that hadn’t been his imagination. “And you got 12 minutes instead of 10! You have 5 seconds until I open the door, and you’d better be decent when I do!”  
  
Cursing under his breath at himself for getting lost in his own fantasy instead of finishing the job, Harry nearly fell out of bed and scrambled to put on his clothes. It seemed that he was just in time as the door opened almost the moment his clothes are on. His face was flushed and his mind is a jumble, but Hermione’s voice cut through the haze.  
  
“Such a naughty boy.”  
  
Harry flushed and looked away from her. That was… far too close to the demeanor of the Hermione he had been fantasizing about, and his mind was instantly pushed back to the imagined world he wished he could stay in a little longer.  
  
“Can you not accomplish the task in 10 minutes Harry?” she asked him softly. Harry, pulled out of his memory once again, realized he had drifted off almost instantly into that same thought and couldn’t help but feel frustrated with himself for being so unfocused and casual. She had given him a time limit! Why hadn’t he paid attention!?  
  
“No, Hermione,” he said, his frustration creeping into his voice. He winced slightly, hoping she didn’t take offense.  
  
“Well, go downstairs and make dinner. If you take care of all of your chores, and ask nicely, I might let you, ah, ‘try again’ after.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry responded already walking out the door. Maybe focusing on dinner and his chores would take his mind off his frustration. It had for the last few days at least.  
  
###  
  
Harry looked around the kitchen deciding that he had finished properly cleaning everything. He certainly didn’t want to get sent back to it again, but he was confident it was done properly.  
  
“Hermione,” Harry called out towards the sitting room where he knew she was reading a book. “The kitchen is done.”  
  
“I’ll be the judge of that!” she called back, and he heard her standing up. She walked in and started casting a careful eye around, inspecting each of the various points that she’d told him to pay special attention to before nodding her head in approval. “You did an excellent job, Harry.” He felt a warm sort of glow inside himself, something like accomplishment only a little bit more. She turned and gave him a brilliant smile. “Good boy.”  
  
Just like that, the warm glow turned into a raging fire inside him. His chores were done, he could ask again.  
  
“Hermione, may I have another wank please? Like you promised?”  
  
She studied him for a moment, an uncertain look on her face.  
  
“I… didn’t promise, Harry,” she said carefully. “I said I _might_ let you try again.”  
  
Harry wanted to protest, but all that came out was a somewhat pathetic whimper. Hermione’s eyes widened for a moment at the sound before a soft giggle escaped her.  
  
“I’ll let you have another chance tonight Harry, but… I want to talk a bit first. About what we are doing.”  
  
Harry looked at her confused. He thought they both understood pretty well what they were doing at this point. Or at least, he felt like _he_ understood.  
  
“Err, alright Hermione,” Harry said unsure. He watched her bite her bottom lip in that familiar way she always did when she was trying to figure something out or making a difficult decision, and Harry realized it was the first time since she got there he’d seen that particular expression of trepidation on her features.  
  
“Let’s sit down first,” she said, motioning to the dining room table. Harry shuffled into his seat and waited patiently for Hermione to start the conversation. She took a deep breath, then started speaking. “Harry, I’m… I want to make a few things clear first.” She looked at him with an intense and confident expression. “I have enjoyed the last few days, as I think you have also. I’ve really come to… appreciate the role I’m playing in all of this.”  
  
“I have too, Hermione,” Harry told her with a look of genuine appreciation. He frowned in confusion though when this response seemed to make her nervous, though.  
  
“Yes… I think you have… but—” She looked down at her hands and shuffled them a few times before looking up with a steely expression. “You know the reason I came here originally right? I’m your friend Harry, and you were worrying me. It seemed like you were wasting away.”  
  
Harry furrowed his brows, but motioned for her to continue, not sure where exactly this was going.  
  
“Since I’ve come here it really seems like your mood and your outlook has improved, but I’m… worried that I’m taking advantage of you somehow. That you were vulnerable, and this is something you would never have let me do if you hadn’t been so… worn down.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, leaning back and thinking about what she said. “Well… you’re probably right, in another state of mind I likely wouldn’t have found out how much I, er, enjoy this sort of thing. But I don’t feel like you’re taking advantage of me, Hermione.”  
  
“You may not _feel_ that way, but it still might be happening,” she insisted, a note of frustration.  
  
“Hermione,” Harry said comfortingly. “Really. I understand now, at least a little, what you must have thought about how I was living. And… you’re right. At least that first night you definitely took advantage of me. But that first night taking advantage of me was sort of your plan, wasn’t it?” Hermione opened her mouth to respond but Harry pressed forward. “I wasn’t really depressed Hermione, or broken, or anything like that. I was just… out of passion. Out of something to enjoy and live for. I didn’t have a desire to go out and create new experiences, but… that’s already changed, hasn’t it?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, her own forehead crinkling.  
  
“Well, I actually stay on top of the groceries now. Haven’t you noticed?” Harry gestured towards the kitchen. “Sure, you’ve given me instructions to make the meals, but keeping track of the food to do that with is something I did on my own. You didn’t tell me to do that.”  
  
Hermione looked past him into the kitchen a faint, shy smile starting on her face.  
  
“It’s a small thing, but it’s not the only one,” Harry assured her. “All things being equal, at the moment I’d rather you tell me what do. But… it’s not really because I can’t do them on my own any more, Hermione. Your plan worked. You’ve kind of… broken through that haze I was feeling.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “I mean, I’m not anxious to go out and start planning vacations or my next daring adventure or something, but… I don’t really feel indifferent to the rest of the world any more.” He paused for a moment. “With you giving me orders Hermione… it’s like you took all the small decisions I found overwhelming off my plate, and what I have left is more manageable now.” He gave her a sincere look. “Truly Hermione, I feel worlds apart from where I was the night you knocked on my door.”  
  
“Would you…” Hermione seemed to waver. “Would you be able to keep going with that? If I were to leave?” Harry couldn’t stop the pained expression that crossed his face. “I don’t want to Harry, remember what I said at the beginning. I’ve enjoyed being here. But _if_ I couldn’t stay, would you still be able to improve things?”  
  
“I think so,” Harry muttered. “Slowly. But…” He gave her a frown. “I’d rather do it with you here. Giving… giving me orders. Like you have been. Hermione, over the last few days I’ve really started to appreciate how I enjoy what we’ve been doing. It’s not—” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not just… sexual enjoyment, you know. I haven’t had much of even the most simple companionship for a while, Hermione. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until you made me taste it again.”  
  
“So then, you want me to stay? You want this to continue?” Harry nodded his head at her question.  
  
“It’s like you said,” Harry told her, venturing a cautious grin. “You broke it, you bought it.”  
  
“For more reasons than just the sexual arousal?” Harry’s cheeks flushed, but he nodded again. She gave him that smirk that made his heart flutter every time. “But I suppose the sexual arousal definitely helps, right Harry?”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened at the way she transformed into _Hermione_ in that moment. His… Domme.  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he mumbled.  
  
“Speak clearly, Harry.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he said a bit more confidently.  
  
“Yes what, Harry?”  
  
Harry felt his embarrassment climb as he understood she was going to make him say it.  
  
“Yes… I enjoy… the way you sexually arouse me, Hermione.”  
  
“Good boy,” she said, setting off that pleased and intense response inside him. She seemed to notice something this time because she quirked her eyebrow before continuing. “Since you haven’t had the chance to read the book yet, you probably won’t know much about what exactly you want us to do in that regard. So I’ll give you a choice, and there’s no wrong answer.”  
  
“Alright, Hermione,” Harry said.  
  
“I’m going to let you have your wank, just like you asked,” she told him. She paused for the briefest moment and Harry thought he saw the glimpse of indecision through the persona of control she was wearing. “But you can choose. Do you want to go to your room and have some time alone, or would you like me to be there and watch?”  
  
Harry was stunned. He had most definitely thought about her watching… that had been the entire basis of his fantasy earlier, though he knew that she wouldn’t be quite as forceful in reality. At least, not this time. But the idea of actually asking, of actually trying to make that fantasy a reality, had never even occurred to him. He had thought that might be something that would make her feel odd, and create discomfort between them. But now that it was presented as simply an option to choose from…  
  
“Do you… have a preference between the two?” Harry asked, wondering if he might fish a bit of information about what she was thinking from her.  
  
“I do,” she said simply, not elaborating at all. That brought Harry up short.  
  
_That means there’s a right answer,_ Harry realized uncomfortably. _I don’t want to be selfish, but… it also feels like it would be wrong to hide how I feel about it from her._  
  
Coming to a decision, Harry looked down.  
  
“If it’s just up to me… I’d… prefer that you watched.”  
  
He chanced a glance up to see her reaction and saw another captivating smile on her face, realizing he had chosen correctly. That meant she wanted to watch. Harry’s eyes widened at that.  
  
_Merlin… she wants to watch me wank… she wants to watch me cum… oh Merlin, ooohhhh…_  
  
Harry could feel the apprehension fill him, similar in feeling almost to when he faced the dragon in front of the entire school during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Like every eye would be on him and it was up to him to perform flawlessly. He sat there turning the thought over in his mind until Hermione finally sighed and stood up.  
  
“Well I doubt it will be comfortable to do it here,” she said plainly. “Let’s go to your room. It’s already, ah, filled with the smell anyway.”  
  
Harry sputtered at that, not realizing that there had even been a smell, let alone that it had been strong enough for Hermione to notice. Was it unpleasant? Is that why she didn’t want it in other parts of the house? How had the smell gotten there? Was it just the wanking, or did he just need to clean his things more often in general?  
  
When they entered though, Harry following Hermione into his own room, she stopped short, put her hands on her hips in a wide stance and took a deep and obvious breath through her nose before letting it out through her mouth.  
  
“Perfect,” she whispered, only barely loud enough for him to hear. The simple statement sent his heart, and his cock, soaring off to a place they hadn’t visited in a very long time. “Get on the bed.”  
  
Harry scampered over and laid down on his back, looking back at her. His pulse was so strong he could feel it in his neck. She rolled her eyes at him.  
  
“Take your clothes off, Harry. You can’t wank if you’re wearing clothes.”  
  
Harry wanted to object that it was in fact quite possible for him to do that, but then he’d lose his ready-made excuse to get naked in front of her, and he so desperately wanted to experience a fraction of that fantasy he’d had earlier. A part of him thought that of all the times he had been embarrassed so far, this one should definitely be up there, but instead he found himself feeling… right. Like there was nothing to worry about when it came to Hermione seeing him naked.  
  
It only took him a few seconds to remove his clothes and lay back in the bed, his rock hard erection and obvious feature for Hermione to inspect. And inspect she did.  
  
He watched her face as she leaned in a bit, taking a few seconds to look him over. Her stare made him feel much more naked than his lack of clothing did, but there was also a reassuring quality to it. He knew that no matter what, Hermione wouldn’t reject him over what she saw in front of her. Watching her face though he didn’t see disappointment or indifference, he saw… hunger.  
  
“Go on then,” she said in a husky voice.  
  
Harry reached down and started to stroke himself, the sensations sending him off into that happy place he had been hours earlier. Before long he’d conjured the fantasy to his mind again. Looking back he wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t just enjoy that Hermione was actually there, but she had remained completely silent as she watched him so after a little while it had been easy to forget she was there.  
  
Losing himself in the fantasy it wasn’t long before he felt himself getting close, and right as he reached the edge, words escaped his mouth with no regard for who else was there.  
  
“Yes, Hermione! Fucking hell, I’m cumming!”  
  
And he did. It was one of the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced, but his mind didn’t return to the room he was in until the first splat of cum hit his stomach. He opened his eyes at the sensation and instantly saw Hermione’s face, intense and with that same hunger, devouring his twitching cock with her eyes. The realization that she was still watching, and that she had heard him talk, sent him out of control and the next spurt was powerful enough that it landed on his cheek instead of his stomach, which drew Hermione’s eyes up to his.  
  
They locked their stares as he continued pumping the white, creamy success all over himself, and neither seemed to be able to tear their eyes away. Several seconds later he was finished and breathing heavily.  
  
They both continued staring, just taking deep breaths, until finally Hermione spoke.  
  
“Go ahead and clean up, then take a shower,” she said in a hoarse voice that sounded very strained. “And… you got some on your face.” She gave him that smirk, and this time it held a hint of power, not just teasing. “Make sure you don’t forget to clean that up too.”  
  
Harry couldn’t speak, he could only nod as Hermione seemed to tear herself away from his bedside with difficulty, walking out of the room at a brisk pace.  
  
_Fucking hell,_ Harry thought, the intense experience still playing over and over in his head. _If that’s what it’s like being her submissive I’ll do whatever she bloody well wants me to.  
  
_ ###  
  
**Author's Note:** I'm back from my vacation with a new chapter of For Every Day After! Hope you enjoyed, and look forward to a chapter of The Brightest Witch sometime on Friday.   
  
If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join me on my Discord server:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>


	4. My Motivation

Chapter 4  
My Motivation  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** I’ve been gone for quite a while, and for that I apologize. But as promised, this story won’t be abandoned. If you’d like more information about my new update schedule, what I’m doing now, and how to keep up to date on my stories, please read the author’s note at the end of the chapter.  
  
###  
  
Harry turned the page, realizing that he was very nearly finished with the last book from Hermione. It had been a few days since his, er, explosive experience with her, but afterward she’d simply given him the books he’d requested and told him to come to her with any questions.  
  
There hadn’t been a knowing smile, or an affectionate look, or any comment on what had happened… it had all been very business-like. Oh certainly, Hermione had given him instructions during the last few days, continuing to have him cook, and clean, and groom himself, but… nothing else. It was like that night had never happened.  
  
Well it had happened for _him_! He wasn’t willing to pretend it was nothing.  
  
It was only now that he was nearly finished learning more about all of the possibilities this sort of life entailed that he knew how to say it. How to express his internal experience to her in a way that she might understand.  
  
He had fallen in love with one of his oldest friends.  
  
It wasn’t the simple lust of last week, although if he were honest there hadn’t been anything simple about that lust. It was… real. Real in a way that few emotions but rage ever had been for him.  
  
Harry finished the last paragraph and closed the book, standing up with a sigh. He could do this. He was _going_ to do this. As he left his room and made his way towards Hermione’s door, he marveled at the improvement he was showing at Hermione’s control. He was about to stand up for himself, for what he wanted, and for what he felt. Not to just anyone, but to one of the people he held dearest in his heart. And not just someone he held dear, but someone he had grown fond of obeying and being, well, submissive to.  
  
But what he had to say right now wasn’t about taking control back from her, it was about the truth. She would want that, he knew, even if it wasn’t something she had instructed.  
  
Harry knocked on her door.  
  
“Come in,” Hermione’s voice called out. Harry took a deep breath and pushed the door open, his eyes catching on her comfy sweater, but as soon as he caught her eyes, he found himself looking at the floor, at a loss for words. Several seconds of silence passed. “Did you… need something Harry?”  
  
“Yes—” Harry answered, his voice catching in his throat a bit. He cleared it and started again. “Yes, Hermione. I’ve finished with the books you gave me.”  
  
“I see,” she said, eying him carefully. Harry waited several seconds for her to ask him about it, but she didn’t seem to have any questions.  
  
“Er, I was wondering how you feel about all this?” Harry said, his voice lifting up at the end as if it were a question. “About having me as your submissive.”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione said softly, her eyes widening. Clearly she hadn’t expected things to head in this direction. “I… enjoy it.”  
  
“How do you enjoy it?” Harry pressed forward, pulling on the courage he had long ago abandoned as a tool of his younger days.  
  
She stared at him intently and for the first time since her dramatic entrance to his house weeks ago, Harry saw real uncertainty and hesitation on her face.  
  
“I’m not really sure what you mean…” Hermione finally responded.  
  
“Do you…” Harry shifted his weight. “Do you enjoy me, er, this I mean. Do you enjoy _this_ as an… experiment? Or like a… fascinating assignment?”  
  
Hermione looked down at her hands, a very serious expression filling her features.  
  
“Harry,” she started softly. “You… do you remember a few weeks ago when I first reached out?” She looked up at him and he nodded. “I was worried. I was so worried. Ron and I had both been caught up in our own little world, and in each other. It felt like… if either of us took even a moment away from our relationship, everything would fall apart. And it wasn’t _supposed_ to, Harry. Everyone was so _happy_ for us, and both of us just _knew_ that we should be together.” Harry felt something cold grip him inside. He was being foolish, she was still getting over a relationship with his own best friend. This was a stupid idea. “But it fell apart anyway,” Hermione whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “We fought, and fought. With each other, and for each other… and for nothing. We have nothing. He still won’t return an owl to me.”  
  
Harry shifted again, feeling positively wretched. How could he have been so selfish? Why hadn’t he considered what she was going through as well?  
  
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry offered. “We don’t have to talk about this.” He turned to leave the room.  
  
“ _Harry James Potter_!” she called out, a mix between crying and anger in her voice. “I didn’t just drag up all those things so that you could walk away before I even tell you what I meant to!” Harry froze at her tone despite himself and turned back to her. He shouldn’t. He should _not_ feel happy about her taking control like that right now. He felt the warm comfort pass through him, and it left nothing but self-hatred and disgust in its wake. “ _Sit_ ,” she said sharply, her brows furrowed as she pointed at the extra chair in her room.  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry mumbled, moving as instructed.  
  
“I need you to understand how… consumed with my own loss I was at that time, because I need you to understand the real impact of my answer,” she said, continuing her story. She took a few calming but unsteady breaths, rocking back and forth a few times before straightening up a bit. “You terrified me Harry,” she whispered, so softly he could barely hear it. She looked up into his eyes. “I have never been that terrified except for with my parents during the war. You were… gone. Someone else was wearing your face. I had just lost the last two years of my life, and the only other person in the world that I truly cared about was _gone_!” She shouted the last word, more tears forming, and Harry flinched back, eyes wide.  
  
“I…” Harry didn’t know what to say. That he was sorry? That he was better now?  
  
“Let me finish, please,” Hermione said, sniffing a few times and dabbing the corners of her eyes. Several seconds passed in tense silence as Hermione gathered herself once more. “Do you know what I did after meeting with you that first time?” she asked him, much more conversationally than she had been talking so far. Harry shook his head. “I thought not.” A soft, almost wistful smile formed on her lips. “I went and talked to all the people we used to know. The people who might have kept in touch with you.” She leaned back, a faraway look on her features. “I talked to George, and Neville, and Luna… I even talked to Ginny.”  
  
Harry took in a sharp breath involuntarily. Oh no. What had Ginny told her?  
  
“You know what I asked all of them?” Hermione said rhetorically. “I asked, ‘when did Harry get this way’.” She looked directly into his eyes, determination shining fiercely, and Harry was taken aback for a moment. “Do you know what every single one of them responded? Even Ginny?” After several moments Harry realized that she wanted him to answer this question, so he shook his head jerkily. Her eyes softened as she sighed. “They shrugged, and told me ‘that’s how he’s always been’.”  
  
“Hermione,” he started, searching for words. “I’m… I don’t…”  
  
“It was like being stabbed in the heart,” Hermione intoned. “The only person left on the planet that I care about that will talk to me, the fucking savior to every single one of them… and they didn’t even think there was something _wrong_. They didn’t care. Not like I did.” Hermione’s eyes flashed back to his, the fiery intensity back, and she stood up, walking towards him. “Do you see this Harry?” she asked, rolling up her sleeve. Harry knew what was there, and he didn’t want to look. “The scar that _creature_ carved into my arm!?” She held it out, and Harry couldn’t help but look up and see the faint lines forming the word ‘mudblood’ on her skin. “I didn’t endure this for the country, or for everyone at school… I took it for you, and for Ron.”  
  
Hermione’s arms fell limp at her side and her sleeve rolled down, covering the scar. Harry looked up at her. She was barely a step away from him now.  
  
“I could never see you… see this… as just an experiment, Harry,” Hermione said in an almost pleading tone. She leaned forward and fell onto his chest, wrapping her arms around him, her tears making his shirt wet. “You’re all I have left.” She started to cry in earnest into his body, and Harry instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “Why am I the only one?” she asked, seemingly to herself. “Why am I the only one?”  
  
“The only one what?” Harry asked gently, rubbing his hands on her back. She sniffed a few times before responding.  
  
“Why am I the only one that cares if you’re happy? You deserve so much more than that.”  
  
Harry stared at the sobbing woman in his arms, speechless. People had cared for him before, but he had never heard it expressed so sincerely. Through all of the pain, and loss, and difficulty that Hermione had experienced since her breakup with Ron, she cared about him so much that it hurt her to see him hurting. She had put the rest of her life on hold to help him… and he had asked if this was just an experiment to her?  
  
Harry felt a brief bout of queasiness as he realized just how much that must have hurt Hermione to hear.  
  
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said soothingly. He continued running his hands along her back. Weeks ago, she had been there to comfort him, to be his point of stability, even though he didn’t know he needed it. He could do the same for her right now. “I’m here, and I’m doing much better now, thanks to you.” Hermione sniffed and pulled back, her eyes red and puffy.  
  
“Are you?” she asked him seriously.  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he said. A smile spread across his face, accompanied by a warmth of… belonging. Of place. “Don’t worry about what everyone else thought,” he continued, “I don’t need everyone else. I just need you.”  
  
“Really?” Hermione responded, sounding startled. “But—I thought…” She trailed off, apparently not sure how to put what she thought into words.  
  
“Hermione,” Harry said earnestly, “I have been torn up inside for days, but it hasn’t been because of that malaise I had when you first got here. It…” Harry paused, gathering his courage. “It’s because you’re my motivation.”  
  
Harry took a breath to continue, but Hermione cut in.  
  
“I’ve been giving you orders to follow,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Which you do. Like a good boy.”  
  
Harry smiled, then shook his head.  
  
“No, Hermione. I mean that you’re my motivation that there’s something worth enjoying in my future.” Harry stopped and studied Hermione’s face to gauge her reaction. Her eyes widened, and she looked like she might start crying again. “I’ve been torn up inside because I… I want more than to just be a good boy. I want to be _your_ good boy. I want… I want to continue what we’ve been doing, but not as just friends.”  
  
A silence permeated the room and they stared at each other. Hermione looked at him, searching for the truth, while Harry looked at her searching for hope. Finally, Hermione spoke up.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Harry was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected to have to justify how he felt.  
  
“Because I’ve never been as happy as I am when I’m with you, Hermione,” Harry said, his thoughts flowing out through his mouth without a filter. “Nearly every happy memory I have includes you. You’ve always been able to deal with me at my worst, but you’re the only one that does it from a place of… of caring. About me. You make me happy, Hermione, but it’s not just because of the things that you do. You’re funny, and smart, and seeing you happy just makes me feel… warm inside.”  
  
Another silence passed between them as a few silent tears fell from Hermione’s eyes. Harry pressed on.  
  
“Since you’ve moved in, we’ve discovered a new, er, _facet_ of who I am. It’s comfortable, and I enjoy it, and I want _more_ of it. Some of the things I read about in those books… just thinking about them with you…” Harry blushed for a few moments, collecting himself once more. “I don’t _just_ enjoy it because of what it is, I enjoy it because of _you_. I wouldn’t want that with anyone else.” Harry looked away from her face, a look of indecision, before turning back to face her, determined. “Hermione… I love you. I don’t have a better explanation than that.”  
  
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, scooping him into her arms once more. “I love you too, and it terrifies me. As painful as it was to breakup with Ron… I can’t imagine how devastating it would be to screw things up with you.”  
  
“Then we won’t,” Harry said confidently. “We can’t if you’re making all the decisions. Hermione is never wrong.”  
  
She broke into a giddy sort of half-laugh, half-cry, holding him tightly. After a few moments she pulled back, a smirk on her face.  
  
“And don’t you forget it,” she whispered.  
  
###  
  
Harry moved around the kitchen with purpose, intent on making a meal that Hermione would enjoy. He’d slowly been figuring out what she liked and what she didn’t since she’d arrived, and he wanted this meal to be special.  
  
For the last two or so weeks he’d been figuring out what he liked as well, and the books he’d collected from Hermione were far more illuminating that he could have even imagined. Many of the things in those books were ideas that had never occurred to him, but having been made aware of them, he could now scarcely think of anything else.  
  
Being a submissive, or hearing Hermione call him that at least, had been… unsettling. That didn’t… well, it didn’t sound very masculine. But one of the books had contained a short account from a male submissive about his own journey and struggle with this concept. The ideas in that story had been enthralling and thought provoking, but more importantly had called into question several things Harry took as a given.  
  
What was masculinity, exactly?  
  
Questions like that had rarely held his interest, but they seemed pivotal to his life at the moment, and he couldn’t help but wonder. Harry had never really had any reason to question how ‘masculine’ or ‘male’ he was, until now. But he didn’t feel less… like himself. If anything, this new side of him felt more like himself. It felt more free, and more natural. The only reason the idea of masculinity even entered his mind was because of what he imagined most of the public would think if they knew about this part of their ‘savior’. Or what Ron might say, for that matter.  
  
But what other people thought about him had rarely, if ever, truly bothered him. When he was younger it had been frustrating and unwelcome when people had thought he was opening the Chamber of Secrets. But it wasn’t the fact that people had thought those things about him that had bothered him, it was what might happen because of it. What would happen because of this? Would people he trusted lose their respect for him?  
  
 _Maybe,_ he thought. _I can’t even imagine how I could have a conversation about these feelings or thoughts with Ron, though he was never one to talk much about feelings anyway. Maybe Neville or Dean would be better at that kind of conversation._  
  
He honestly wasn’t sure about the answers to these questions. What he was sure about was that he’d never really been this happy or content. And no matter what others thought, it was what Hermione thought that mattered to him most.  
  
 _She knows exactly what’s going on with me, maybe even better than I do, and she loves me._ Harry paused at that and a slow smile formed on his lips. _She loves me,_ he kept thinking to himself over and over.   
  
“Is dinner ready?” Hermione asked, walking into the room.   
  
“Yes, Hermione.”  
  
Harry finished dishing her plate up and set it in front of her at the table before returning to grab his own portion. When he returned to his seat, he saw that she hadn’t started eating yet. His smile faltered.  
  
“Erm, should I have made something else?” he asked.  
  
“No,” Hermione replied with a smile. “I thought that we should eat together.” She gave him a meaningful look. “At the _proper_ speed.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he said with relief, sitting down. Harry picked up a bite with his fork then held it and waited for Hermione to do the same. She stared at him for several seconds, before nodding with a smirk.  
  
“Good boy.”  
  
Harry made sure to keep pace with her, instead of rushing ahead. After the first few bites he got the hang of the rhythm that Hermione was using, and his mind drifted to later this evening.  
  
“Hermione?” he started, making sure to swallow before talking. He was certain she would be cross about him talking with his mouth full.   
  
“Yes Harry?”  
  
“Would you…” Harry set his fork down, and furrowed his eyebrows. “Would you like to move out of the guest room? My bed is more comfy, and I figured, you know, given what we discussed earlier, and it seemed appropriate, but I don’t know how you’d feel about that, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, because we don’t have to have sex or anything, it’s just—”  
  
“Harry!” Hermione snapped, interrupting his rambling. Harry closed his mouth, eyes wide, as he realized how scattered his speaking had become.  
  
 _Merlin, she does something crazy to me, even when she’s not trying._  
  
“I’d…” Hermione paused, figuring out how to phrase her answer. “I think it’s a good suggestion. To be honest, I think just… being close tonight would be helpful. But I don’t think we should do anything together until we have a discussion about what exactly we both want, what we don’t want, and what our expectations are.” Harry nodded in agreement, and Hermione continued. “We can discuss all of that tomorrow morning. You know how I like to think through things, and have time to consider things before jumping into something important like this. I’d like to sleep on my thoughts before we talk about the future too much.” She smiled at him warmly. “But sleeping with my arms wrapped around my very own ‘good boy’ sounds delightful.”  
  
Harry thought about her answer, and felt it was reasonable, but a part of him was absolutely begging for more. It had been days since she had watched him have a wank, and he was nearly bursting inside to experience that again.  
  
“That sounds fantastic, Hermione,” Harry said with a smile. “But, I understand being a submissive now, and I want more. That won’t change tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad you understand yourself better now, but like I said let’s wait until tomorrow at least, and sleep on it.”  
  
Harry felt guilty about pushing, but at the same time, the feelings inside him had been steadily building, and a part of him felt ready to explode. Not just physically, either.  
  
“Hermione, I…” Harry looked down at his plate, unable to hold eye contact. “I can’t wait… you’ve been leaving me alone for days, and I miss it. I just… I miss you taking that control… I miss feeling like… putty in your hands.”  
  
“It’s just one day, Harry,” she said. Her voice sounded strained, and when he looked up she had a somewhat pained look on her face.   
  
“Please, Hermione…”   
  
Harry watched as her resolve seemed to crack, and her face shifted into an expression of annoyance and excitement.  
  
“Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “You want me to control you?”  
  
“Yes, Hermione.”  
  
“Sexually? Tonight?”  
  
“Yes, Hermione.”  
  
“You want to know what _I’ve_ been thinking about doing to you? What _I’ve_ been curious and fantasizing about for days?” Her face looked slightly flushed as the passion in her voice grew with each question. Harry’s eyes widened, wondering if perhaps he should have left it alone after all. Just the same, he nodded.  
  
“I just… want to feel like I’m _yours_ again,” he said softly.  
  
“Oh,” Hermione said, a full smirk now on her face. “I think you won’t be able to feel anything _but_ that by the end of the night.” She set her own fork down and pointed at his plate. “Finish your dinner. No more speaking, no more questions. When you are finished with dinner, go to _our_ room, _silently_ , remove your clothes and climb into bed. You will stay like that until I get there.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, before catching himself and nodding instead. He picked up his fork, his heart thumping wildly in his chest in anticipation. He glanced back up at Hermione who was simply sitting there watching him.  
  
“Keep your eyes on your food,” she commanded in tone that brooked no argument. “You are not to look up the rest of the night.”  
  
His eyes flicked back to his food and he gave a short nod. After a few moments, he heard Hermione begin to eat again, and the rest of dinner passed in silence except for the sounds of their meal. It was… maddening. He wanted to thank her, or beg her, or… he wanted to say _something_ anyway. The silence felt full of tension to him, and a part of him wondered if maybe that was what Hermione wanted.  
  
Regardless, she had made her instructions very clear. It felt like both an eternity and an instant before her was finished, as if different parts of his mind were disagreeing on the nature of the passing of time. But after setting his fork down for the last time, he waited. Should he just get up? She did tell him to go to his room… _their_ room… after finishing, but it felt somehow wrong to leave without being excused.  
  
“Do you remember the rest of your instructions?” Hermione voice suddenly cut through the silence, causing him to jump slightly. He nodded without looking up. “Good boy. Go ahead, I’ll be up shortly.”  
  
Harry pushed his chair back and walked up the stairs to his room, keeping his eyes on the floor as he went. Closing the bedroom door behind him, he rapidly disrobed before crawling into his bed and laying on his back. Now he just had to wait. What was she going to do? She had been fantasizing about using him? How?  
  
He could feel how excited his lower half was, and he was quite sure that he wouldn’t be soft for quite some time unless he got some relief. Would she want to have sex? Somehow that felt unlikely. He might have pushed her, but he doubted that Hermione would go that far before they had the conversation she wanted to have tomorrow.  
  
Time passed, but without anything to do or anything to keep track of, Harry wasn’t sure how _much_ time had passed when he finally heard the door open and close. Hermione was in the room.  
  
“You may look at me,” she said.  
  
Harry’s eyes instantly snapped towards the door and nearly doubled in size. Hermione was wearing a nightie that was sheer enough for him to make out the vague shapes of her nipples, and enough for him to tell that she had no panties on _and_ had some hair down there. He couldn’t make out any details, but it didn’t matter. It was without question to most sexy thing he had ever seen in his life.  
  
He watched as she walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to him. She laid down on her side, facing him, while he was laying on his back, his head turned to stare at her, utterly captivated.   
  
“Like what you see?” she asked him, that sexy smirk back on her face. He nodded. “Good boy. Face away, you’re the small spoon.”  
  
Harry turned onto his side, his erection bobbing as he did so, throbbing with hope. He felt her shift behind him, and couldn’t help the whimper of appreciation that escaped his lips when he felt the silky material of her nightie start to press against his back. He could feel the soft pressure of her breasts, and hard points of her nipples… she pressed into him from behind until he could feel most of her body pressed against him.  
  
“Remember, Harry,” she whispered in his ear, her hot breath flowing across his skin and hair in an unbearably arousing way, “no speaking. You can make all the noise you want, but no speaking.”  
  
He felt her arms start to wrap around him, and one of her hands looped between his neck and the pillow, then started to travel down his chest. It reached his nipple, and her fingers stopped, before she gave it a flick.  
  
“Oh Merlin!”  
  
Her fingers closed and she pinched his nipple hard.  
  
“I said _no talking_ ,” she said in his ear, emphasizing her point with her fingers. Harry just whimpered, utterly at her mercy. She let go of his nipple about began flicking it again, sending intense and unfamiliar jolts of pleasure through his body that were causing him to jerk quite uncontrollably. “The only words you may say are to tell me when you are close,” she said, her other hand gently wrapping around his cock. “You will tell me when you are close. Do you understand?”  
  
Harry nodded, his breathing ragged, as she started to slowly stroke him while continuing to lightly attack his nipples. Harry was in a completely other plane of existence. There was nothing but the total control Hermione had over his body and the sensations it was causing… she was playing him like an instrument, pushing sounds of pleasure and arousal out of him like the notes on a flute.  
  
If he had been very aware of it, he might have been surprised at how… feminine his whines, and moans, and grunts sounded. But he was far too gone to notice or care.  
  
“This was a great idea, Harry,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m quite enjoying myself.” She stopped stroking his cock and ran a finger over his tip, picking up some of the slimy pre-cum that had leaked out from her ministrations. She pulled her hand back and Harry heard her stick the finger into her mouth. “Hmmm, it seems you’re enjoying yourself too.”  
  
She reached back around and ran her finger on the tip again, getting more. This time though Harry found her hand in front of his own face. He was a bit too hazy to understand what she wanted, but that wasn’t much of a problem, as she pushed the wet finger into his mouth.  
  
“Can you taste what I’m doing to you Harry?”  
  
Her finger pulled out and her hand went back to its slow, regular stroking. He was getting close. He _was_ close. He was supposed to do something when that happened.  
  
“I’m—” Harry couldn’t form more words than that, but it was enough it seemed. Hermione stopped playing with his nipples, and her hands let go of his cock, wrapping around his stomach instead.   
  
The haze and confusion made it difficult for him to immediately understand what was going on, but as Hermione pulling him closer and snuggled up against him, he realized that she _wasn’t_ planning on finishing him off.  
  
“Hermione, please—”  
  
“I said no talking,” she said sternly, pinching his nipple again, somewhat painfully. “You wanted me in control Harry, you wanted something tonight, before we had the chance to talk. And you get to experience the consequences of that. I’ve wanted to edge you _so_ much over the last few days, and since you seem to enjoy being my plaything, that’s what I decided to do.  
  
“Now, hush. We’re going to go to sleep, and your cock will be aching for release all night, and tomorrow if you’re a good boy I’ll give it to you.” He felt her lift up slightly and kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, my submissive little boy.”  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** I am aware that the ‘mudblood’ scar is a movie-only thing. In the books, Bellatrix slices her neck and leaves a scar there, but it’s just a single line. However, in this story it is quite useful for me to have the movie scar, so I am.  
  
Generally speaking, I try to keep to book canon only, but in this case I’m making an exception.  
  
Apologies again for the gap in chapters. Going forward, this story will be updated on the second Saturday of every month. My new update schedule is explained here:  
  
<https://www.patreon.com/posts/update-schedule-24008341>  
  
Updates will be on Saturdays, with each story getting one chapter per month.  
  
I’ll be posting little updates on my Patreon and using it as something like a blog, so even if you don’t want to or simply can’t sign up for one of the subscriptions, you can still follow it for free and keep up to date on what’s going on.  
  
Another good place to keep up on things is on my Discord server, where I have been hanging out again since the beginning of the year. You can join it here:  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>  
  
To all of those who are reading again after months of waiting, I love you. My most sincere appreciation goes out to you for finding something of value in the things that I write.  
  
 **Special Thanks:** A special thanks to Valter/Cormag, Therapist Maou, and MatrimKnotai over at Patreon who very generously signed up to support my work.


	5. Plaything

Chapter 5  
Plaything  
  
###  
  
Hermione woke up with a sense of calm. She could feel the warmth of Harry’s body against her and it brought a smile to her face. Last night had been so incredibly satisfying. She’d been restraining herself, for days, unsure of how Harry would respond. Even now, she felt like they needed to discuss a few things. But when he’d pushed her past the point of her own restraint, and she snapped, she’d discovered just how deeply she wanted to control Harry. How much she _enjoyed_ it.  
  
She slowly opened her eyes and took a few moments to listen to Harry’s breathing. He sounded like he was still asleep, which was just perfect. Carefully she reached on of her hands down and wrapped her fingers around his cock. It was hard, and warm, and begging for release, even in his sleep. She felt a smirk cross her face, and that told her more than anything just how she felt about everything. She was smirking about it even though no one could see the expression.  
  
She reached her other hand up and started to slightly flick Harry’s nipple while she started to slowly stroke him. She wasn’t going too fast, she didn’t want to wake him up right away. The things she had read about edging described a mental state where the subject had their thinking clouded by unrestrained desire and need, and that’s how she wanted Harry to wake up. Fuzzy, needy, and at her mercy.  
  
The feeling was a bit startling, for how intense it was, but it felt good all the same.  
  
As she slowly stroked she started to feel a drip form at the tip, and spread it around the head to make it more lubricated. The feeling of his hardness slipping through her hands as he slept, knowing that he was going to wake up feeling the control she had over him… Hermione had never felt so powerful before.  
  
Harry’s breathing picked up a bit and a sound something like a moan escaped his lips. He started to stir, but Hermione kept going through her motions, her smile growing as she knew that moment of understanding for him would come very soon.  
  
“Oh…” Harry let out, his body moving in a delicious way as he started to come back to reality. “What…?”  
  
His head was a jumble of horniness, confusion, and sensation.  
  
“Hermione,” he croaked, instinctively trying to get away from her touch. But her arms were wrapped around him, and he would have had to physically fight her arms to get away from her, which he wasn’t inclined or awake enough to do. Instead she picked up her effort, extracting another reflexive moan from his lips.  
  
“Quiet, Harry,” she whispered. “I’m having fun.”  
  
Harry whimpered but obeyed, the only sounds leaving his mouth whimpers and moans.  
  
Hermione took her time, going slowly and methodically, knowing that she wanted to keep him aroused, not bring him over the edge. For minutes she relaxed and enjoyed what she was doing, her hands pulling pleasure from his body like a musician plucked a melody from the strings of a harp. His body moved in spastic yet fluid ways that Hermione found fascinating, and she’d give him particularly rough flicks of the nipple, or purposely slow and fast strokes to see if she could get him to move in specific ways.  
  
She wasn’t keeping track of the time closely, but felt that it must have been at least fifteen minutes by the time she stopped. Harry lay there panting, visibly aching for release in a way that he had never experienced before. Watching him work through that feeling, inspiration hit Hermione as she remembered something from the section on edging.  
  
Reaching behind her and grabbing her wand, she pointed it at his crotch and whispered, “ _Incarcerous_.” Following her will as she shaped the magic with her wand, tiny strings flew out from the tip and wrapped around the base of his cock and balls, pulling tight before securing themselves. If the book was the be believed, and the book was always to be believed in Hermione’s opinion, this would keep him erect and make him feel that pent-up feel for even longer.  
  
She felt that rush of power flow through her again as the spell finished and Harry let out a yelp of surprise as the strings tightened around him.  
  
“Since you’re such a _lazy_ boy, never leaving the house or going out to do something, I don’t think you need clothes today,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Besides, I want that to be out and available for teasing _all_ day long.”  
  
She rolled to the other side of the bed and stood up, adjusting her bedwear, and turned back to face Harry who was still lying near his edge of the mattress, panting and staring at her with a mixture of reverence and fear.  
  
“Go make me breakfast, Harry,” she commanded. And it truly was a command, it came out in a tone that brooked no argument. “I expect it to be done within 15 minutes.”  
  
As she walked out of the room, not waiting for him to acknowledge her order, she smiled. Harry had opened Pandora’s Box by pushing last night, and now she felt like perhaps she was happy that he had. They would still need to discuss some things, but she knew in her heart that this was going to make Harry happy. She knew that he would do what she told him to do, and most importantly, she knew that she wanted him to belong to her.  
  
She had been so conflicted last night. The desire to simply make Harry her toy had been so strong, he had been literally begging her to do it and it was all she had dreamed of for nearly the last week. But she had been afraid of what it might do to their friendship, or what might go wrong. She had been worried about crossing a line, or what he might think of her if she actually did what she had been fantasizing about doing to him for days. And she had, as she always did, hoped to calm her fears through a logical and reasoned discussion.  
  
But this wasn’t purely logical or reasoned. This was emotional, and primal. This was usually the way that Harry approached things, not her, but… she had certainly spent enough of her life around him to see the value in responding that way sometimes.  
  
She loved that the more he leaked pre-cum out of his cock the less thought and control he seemed to have. It was like she was squeezing his liquid willpower from him with her bare hands. And what woman wouldn’t want to so utterly subdue the immense willpower of Harry Potter to her own sexuality?  
  
###  
  
Harry spent about thirty seconds trying to collect his wits, but it was no use. His balls were absolutely begging for release, and they did not appear to be in the mood to let him forget that. The idea of simply reaching down and relieving himself never even crossed his mind, so deep into his current situation his mind had delved.  
  
After confronting the reality that he was going to have to focus while being so aroused, Harry put his feet on the floor and stood up. He made to reach for his pants, but pulled his hand back. Naked. She had instructed him to remain naked today.  
  
A shiver ran down his spine as he realized just how exposed and vulnerable that would make him to her newly displayed predatory side, but in truth that didn’t frighten him. He was nervous yes, but not scared. Instead he found himself excited at the prospect of finally having a place with her. A place where he finally got to share his pleasure with her, and where she got to actually control him, none of these half-measures that had been going on the last few weeks.  
  
He gave his head a shake and realized that he was standing there, reveling in his own submission, wasting time.  
  
 _Stupid arousal, it’s making focusing so hard_ , he thought. _Hard. Fuck, wrong word._  
  
Harry forced himself to move, and walked down the stairs into the kitchen. Hermione wasn’t in sight, but he was certain that the moment fifteen minutes had passed she would appear, and he was just as certain that she would be displeased with him if breakfast wasn’t waiting like she had demanded.  
  
Pulling out a pan Harry cracked a few eggs and started to prepare the food. Every time he turned quickly, the firmness of his erection would cause an odd sensation of weight, like he was balancing something at his stomach, and the bindings on his cock would reassert themselves, ensuring that it was impossible for him to forget just how hard he was, or how much he was under Hermione’s control.  
  
Taking out some bread, Harry started to make some toast as the rest of breakfast was nearly finished. He wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed, but he was sure that it must be getting close. The eggs and bacon were ready and being kept warm with some charms, but the toast wasn’t something he could speed up. He was sure there must be some kind of spell that could make toast in the blink of an eye, but cooking spells were never something he had looked into much. He had learned how to cook and became comfortable cooking mainly in the muggle way, and it persisted even to this day. At the moment though, he would trade his toaster for a few spells in a heartbeat.  
  
“Smells delicious,” Hermione’s voice commented from behind him, causing him to jump. He turned to face her instinctively, but had entirely forgotten how naked he was until her eyes lowered and watched him bob back and forth from the motion of his body’s twist. He felt his face light up in embarrassment. Not really at Hermione seeing his naked body, but at how… at how humiliating it was to have her ogle him in that way, and how powerless he felt to even cover himself up.  
  
Harry turned back around and grabbed and plate and began to dish it up with the eggs and bacon. Nearly the moment the plate was ready the toast jumped up, that perfect golden brown, and he set that on the plate as well, before placing the meal in front of her. He looked up at her face and felt his blush return as she raised an eyebrow. She glanced up at the clock then at the dish before giving him a smile.  
  
“Close enough,” she said simply, sitting down to eat. “Dish yourself a plate as well, Harry.”  
  
He nodded and quickly prepared another plate, this one without toast as he didn’t feel like making more, before sitting down next to her. As soon as he was seated, his eyes finally noticed her body. She was fully clothed, the way she might be on any other day, and somehow it made him feel even more exposed. Harry looked back at his plate and picked up his fork, scooping up some eggs, waiting until she started to eat as well. He knew by now that she would want him to eat at her pace instead of his own.  
  
“Good boy,” Hermione told him with genuine satisfaction in her voice, before picking up her own fork to eat. The words caused another shiver to run through him, and this time the shiver ended in his constrained hardness, causing a distracting tingle that made it throb as he slowly chewed his food.  
  
Eating his meal was a challenge of focus. Sitting on the chair without any clothes made him constantly aware of his nakedness, and the bindings made him constantly aware of his hardness, while the two of those things together made him constantly aware of how their dynamic had changed. How she was controlling him now, using him. It made him feel warm inside, and happy, but it was also distracting, and thrilling in a way that made it difficult for his thoughts to stray very far from the situation he was currently in.  
  
As he finished his food, Harry realized with surprise that for the first time in his memory he hadn’t been thinking about the past and how it affected him, or thinking about the future and how little he cared for it. He was simply in the moment, because that’s all he had the mental capacity for right then, and it was such a freeing realization that brought a smile to his face.  
  
“Happy thoughts, Harry?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry looked up from his plate at her and took in her expression. This woman, his best friend in the world, the person who understood him better than anyone ever had but hadn’t run from what she saw, was bringing him a peace and serenity that he had scarcely ever hoped for. Harry knew in that moment that he was willing to follow this as far as it went without reservation.  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he said. “I was just… I’m happy. I feel content. It’s like I’m free to just… live now.”  
  
She was silent for several moments before dropping her eyes and looking at her own empty plate, bringing her hands up a fidgeting a bit.  
  
“Perhaps it’s time we had that discussion,” she told him, a hint of nerves in her voice. Harry looked at her curiously, but nodded in agreement. “First…” Hermione fidgeted some more before looking up at him. “I want to know if you’re okay with what I did last night… and this morning.”  
  
“Yes,” Harry replied without hesitation. A sheepish smile crossed his features. “It’s… um… it’s a bit difficult to think at times because of what you’re doing to me, but I’ve loved every minute of it so far.”  
  
Hermione visibly relaxed, and Harry realized that she must have started to get into that nervous mood she did sometimes when she didn’t have the answer to something. She knew him very well, but he felt like he knew her just as well, and one thing he had learned over the years was how easy it was for her to get inside her own head and make things seem much worse than they actually are. At the same time though, while he was able to notice her nerves, they weren’t as pronounced as they used to be.  
  
He wasn’t sure whether that was something had changed during her time with Ron, or if it was because she wasn’t actually that nervous or worried. In his heart he hoped it was the latter.  
  
“So, you read the book I gave you then?” she asked him.  
  
“Yes, Hermione.”  
  
“And what… uh… what are the things that I should stay away from? What do you want me to not do to you?”  
  
Harry frowned as he considered the question. He hadn’t been considering it in those terms, he had been expecting to talk about the things they _did_ want to do. As he thought about it though, he realized that this would maybe take some of the surprise and enjoyment out of it, if he knew with certainty what was coming. A part of him that he was only just getting familiar with was enjoying the idea of meeting any request Hermione gave him with obedience.  
  
“Just… well…” Harry thought about the things he had read. Many of them sounded like things he was unsure about, and several seemed like things that didn’t seem too enjoyable, but… if it was what she wanted to do he also felt like giving it a try at least. For most things. “Only you. For now, no one else please.” Hermione nodded, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “And… um…” Harry fidgeted as he thought through a specific section of the book. “If you could… limit the pain maybe? To punishments. Pain for its own sake just brings back bad memories.” Hermione’s eyes softened as she nodded again.  
  
“Of course,” she said. “I can do that.” She waited a few more moments before speaking again. “Nothing else?”  
  
“There’s probably other things, but… I’m not sure what they are,” Harry explained to her. “I trust you, Hermione. If you want to try something, and I think it sounds like a bad idea… well, I’ll at least try it once before telling you it’s something I don’t want to do any more.”  
  
Hermione frowned at that answer for a few seconds.  
  
“We’ll take it a bit slow then,” she said. “But…” she trailed off and waited to catch his eyes, staring at him with an intensity that was uncommon on her face, but quite compelling. “But I have to admit, a part of me just…” She glanced away for a moment before looking back with determination that would make any Gryffindor proud. “I’m so horny, Harry.” The declaration made him open his mouth in shock. She pressed on. “Controlling you, teasing you, treating you like my plaything… I’ve been fantasizing about it for days. I’ve tried to tell myself that it was just enthusiasm for you, and for helping you, but… I want this for myself too. I want…” She paused any a mischievous look filled her features. “I want to make you _mine_.”  
  
Harry felt himself throb once more at this declaration.  
  
“I want to be yours,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I want you to make me yours.”  
  
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out, a calm and pleased smile on her face.  
  
“Good,” she said. “Good boy. Then I want you to take care of your chores and tidy up the house. Make sure to clean our room as well. When you’re finished come to the sitting room and sit at my feet.”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry agreed. He stood up and started moving through the house. His nakedness and hardness no longer felt awkward… it felt right. It was just another way that she was making him hers.  
  
###  
  
A few hours later Harry finally entered the sitting room, his chores completed, and found Hermione sitting in the large chair reading a book. As he approached and caught the title, he felt a blush spread across his face and extend all the way down his neck.   
_  
At Her Feet… I guess it’s appropriate._  
  
It also reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to stand and stare. Getting down on to the floor, Harry sat down and crossed his legs underneath each other, sitting only inches from where her bare feet were lazily bouncing as she read the book. He could see now that her was closer that the book had a subtitle: _Powering Your Femdom Relationship_  
  
Harry looked down in embarrassment again.  
  
“Are you finished with your chores?” she asked, not looking up from her book.  
  
“Yes, Hermione.”  
  
“Good boy,” she said, somewhat dismissively, like the result was a foregone conclusion. After a few more moments she looked over the book at him and frowned. “I see you’re not quite as hard as you were this morning.”  
  
“Umm…” Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “No, Hermione.”  
  
“I want you hard again,” she said, as if she were ordering a dish at a restaurant. “I like looking at it.”  
  
Harry felt his blush flair again, but wasn’t sure if she was asking him to touch himself or not. That was cleared up a few moments later when she reached forward with one of her feet and started gently teasing his cock with her toes and the sole of her foot. The sensation elicited a gasp from Harry’s lips. While he wasn’t quite hard any more, he was still quite sensitive and sexually frustrated.  
  
She watched her efforts for a few moments until his cock started to respond to her efforts, and then brought the book back in front of her face, casually continuing to tease him while she read. She hadn’t asked him to do anything, or say anything. She hadn’t explained what he was supposed to do now. So he just sat there, feeling that fuzzy, needy feeling return in full force.  
  
He was surprised when he realized that despite using her feet to please him so close to his face, he couldn’t smell that uniquely pungent scent one would normally associate with that kind of proximity. Her skin was so soft against him too, even on her feet, and Harry realized that she must have showered while he was cleaning.  
  
Hermione turned the page, and that’s when Harry realized it was a possibility she would be doing this for quite some time. As the teasing continued, Harry felt stronger and stronger urges begin to fill him. It was something he was unfamiliar with, a sort of deep emotional longing to please her, to make her happy. To make her proud. He wanted to take care of her. He had made her breakfast this morning, and he had cleaned their house, and now he wanted to use his body to care for her as well.  
  
It wasn’t like other sexual urges he’d had before. He didn’t feel the desire to have sex with her exactly. That wouldn’t be unwelcome, but it didn’t feel necessary. He wasn’t longing to _have sex_ , he was longing to _bring her pleasure_ , and was willing to have his body used however it could to do that. A deep contentment settled in with the longing as he started to realize that’s exactly what was happening right now.  
  
Just sitting there, being a sexually frustrated and hard mess, aching for release, was bringing her pleasure, and he was determined to endure it for as long as it kept bringing her pleasure.  
  
His resolve was tested however. Hermione could sit and read without doing anything else for hours, and that’s exactly what she did today as well, teasing him the whole time. Long ago pre-cum had started to leak from the tip of his cock, getting both himself and her foot slick and sticky. And long ago he had somewhat lost the ability to think much. She had held him in a state of high arousal without release, at her feet, for hours now, and though his brain was only marginally engaging in thinking at this point, he was sure that he would do anything she asked.  
  
When her foot finally left his body he experienced a few moments of disorientation and loss. Her foot had become his entire reality over the last few hours, and he looked around dumbly for a few seconds wondering where it had gone. Finally his eyes traveled up to Hermione’s face and he saw she was staring at him intently, pure and open desire on her face.  
  
“You’d do anything I said,” she said in an amused voice. “Wouldn’t you?”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” he said in a scratchy tone, his voice a bit off from hours of panting and whimpering without speaking.  
  
“That makes you a slut,” Hermione said definitively. “Are you saying you’re my slut now?”  
  
“Yes, Hermione,” Harry replied, finding himself agreeing with whatever she said.  
  
“Say it,” she commanded, and edge in her voice.  
  
“I’m your slut, Hermione.”  
  
“Again.”  
  
“I’m your slut, Hermione!” He raised his voice, saying it confidently, but his voice was filled with the desire that was wholly occupying his every thought at the moment.  
  
“You made a mess on my foot with your slut juices,” Hermione said, lifting the foot she had been rubbing him with in front of his face. “Lick it clean, I just got out of a shower before you got here.”  
  
Harry leaned forward without even thinking twice and found his tongue traveling across the skin wherever there was already a wetness. His focus narrowed, and the world seemed to melt away from his awareness. This caused him another short burst of confusion when suddenly her foot pulled back, and by the time he opened his eyes she was standing.  
  
“Let’s go to the bedroom, _slut_ ,” she said, stepping past him. His mind was working much too slow to respond to such a complicated physical endeavor as walking immediately, so when she stopped a few steps later and turned back around, he hadn’t even moved. “Oh, and I want you to crawl there.”  
  
Harry didn’t really think about the instruction too much. In truth, he really couldn’t. Hermione said things, he did things. The things that she said. And she said to crawl. It’s what would make her happy, and that’s what Harry wanted. He leaned forward and began to move towards her on all fours, and after observing him crawling in this manner for a few feet, Hermione turned back around and continued walking towards the stairs where their bedroom was.  
  
###  
  
By the time Harry finally got into the bedroom, his mind was a jumble of new and unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. He felt so… low. Not in a bad way necessarily, but there was absolutely no question that he was below Hermione. She was amazing and he… he was her plaything. That was his purpose right now.  
  
He didn’t immediately see Hermione when he crawled into the room, and after a few moments he was able to put together that she must be on the bed, above his field of view when he was on all fours. But he still wasn’t given permission to stand. So instead he crawled to the foot of the bed and then pulled himself up.  
  
As soon as his eyes lifted above the mattress, he nearly fell backward. Hermione was laying on the bed, completely naked with her legs spread, looking at him with an expression that made him feel small.   
  
“Over here, slut,” she said, patting the bed between her legs. Harry swallowed hard but pulled himself onto the bed and stopped between her legs. He could smell how aroused she was, never mind how aroused she _looked_. It was obvious from a casual glance that she was absolutely drenched. “Use your mouth, and make me cum.”  
  
The order was simple, to the point, and left no room for any interpretation. Swallowing again, Harry leaned down and stuck out his tongue. As soon as it made contact with her folds, he decided that this taste was even better than his own juices that he’d been forced to taste several times now. It had a much more complex flavor that filled his senses and seemed to stay in his mouth no matter how many times he swallowed.   
  
This wasn’t the first time that he’d pleased a woman with his mouth, but his experience was still quite limited. Still, he’d been given an instruction, and in that moment Harry wanted nothing in the world more than to make Hermione feel good and fulfill his duty to her. It wasn’t just a sexual desire, it felt like a deep need within him that was more simple than that. He didn’t _want_ to make Hermione cum with his mouth, he _had_ to. It was necessary for him to feel like he was fulfilling his role, and in that moment, his purpose.  
  
He paid attention to the sounds she made as he moved his tongue around and tried different things, adjusting his tactics accordingly. She also offered him a few specific instructions, but within a few minutes she was just lying back, legs spread, panting as he went about his work.  
  
Harry lost himself in it. Like before, his world narrowed to his task. Reality became nothing but the juices and skin his tongue was buried in. He was brought back to the bed though when her thighs started to close around his head. He didn’t stop or slow down, but realized that she must be quite close. Keeping the same pace he had been setting, it was only a few moments later that it happened.  
  
Hermione’s thighs squeezed his head hard, forcing his mouth, nose, and face deep into her wetness. She started to twitch a bit and let out a long moan, and then a new gentle flow of wetness entered his mouth and coated his face. It lasted about fifteen seconds or so, and when her twitches ended, Harry found himself still pressed tightly into her center.  
  
Not sure if he should stop or not, Harry continued to use his tongue as best he could. Eventually Hermione’s legs spread back open.  
  
“Stop, slut,” she said in a breathy tone. Harry pulled back and looked up at her. He had never seen an expression of such utter contentment and happiness on Hermione’s face, and knowing that he was the cause of it brought a feeling of deep pride and accomplishment to him.  
  
Hermione patted the bed next to her.  
  
“Lie on your back,” she said.  
  
Harry got into position and Hermione shakily moved into a sitting position next to his stomach. She looked up at his face and smirked. Leaning in towards him, Harry’s heart raced as he thought she might kiss him. But she stopped a few inches away and took a deep breath through her nose.  
  
“You smell like me,” Hermione declared. “I like it,” she said with a giggle. “I think you should smell like that more often.”  
  
Hermione pulled back and looked down at his cock, which was at full attention, straining against the strings that still held him tightly.  
  
“You’ve been a very good boy,” Hermione said. The tone gave Harry a feeling of such happiness. She was… she was _proud_ of him. “I’m going to let you cum.”  
  
Grabbing her wand, Hermione pointed it at his groin and with a swish the strings tying him vanished. Harry let out a gasp of surprise as suddenly he was entirely unconstrained. In truth, he nearly came just from that, but somehow it didn’t happen.  
  
Setting the wand aside, Hermione reached across his body with both hands, one reaching for his nipples while the other reached for his cock. Immediately she got to work. This wasn’t the lazy teasing that he’d experienced last night and all day today, this was done with purpose. She was intent on making him cum as fast as possible.  
  
Even if he hadn’t been unbearably on edge, he wouldn’t have lasted long, but with the treatment she’d given him he lasted mere seconds. With a moan of shock, Harry’s muscles went tense as his cock started to shoot string after string of thick cum across his body. It seemed to go on forever, and Harry was sure that he’d just cum more than he ever had in his entire life.  
  
His mind was barely functional by the time the last string shot forth, splattering his stomach. The orgasm has been so overwhelming that he could scarcely believe it was real. As his mind slowly began to clear, Hermione spoke again.  
  
“Open your mouth.”   
  
Harry complied immediately, no longer thinking before following her orders. A few seconds later he felt Hermione’s fingers scrape across his skin and then come up to his mouth, and he realized she was scooping up his cum and putting it in his mouth.  
  
“Don’t swallow,” she said, wiping her fingers on his lips before going back for another scoop. Methodically, Hermione got every bit of his orgasm that she could and left it in his mouth, until he could feel at least one gulp worth of it pooled at the back. After the last bit was deposited he saw Hermione’s face come into view and she looked at him with wonder. “You look amazing…” she said, as if talking to herself as she stared at his open mouth, no doubt looking at his white seed near the back of his throat. Her eyes drifted up until they met his. “Now. Swallow now.”  
  
Harry closed his mouth and did. It took two gulps, but he swallowed it, and could feel the slightly slimy feeling as it went down his throat.  
  
“Good boy,” Hermione whispered. She seemed completely entranced with him in that moment, and leaned in. This time it happened, and Hermione’s lips met his, a feeling of total fulfillment spreading through Harry’s very soul.  
  
###  
  
 **Author’s Note:** So the book that is referenced in this story is _At Her Feet: Powering Your Femdom Relationship_ by Tammy Jo Echart. It was published in 2010, so I’m doing a bit of timeline bending to have the book there, but honestly finding the right book for her to be reading that was published before 1999 seemed like far too much hassle.  
  
A special thanks to Cormag and Therapist Maou at my Patreon page, who have generously supported at the “Accio Ballgag” level or above.  
  
You can join me in my Discord server if you want to chat.  
  
<https://discord.gg/TQ25x5u>  
  
You can find my Patreon page here: <https://www.patreon.com/neptune20>  
  
As mentioned in a post there, I’ve decided to take _Baby Fever_ off of regularly scheduled posts. Officially, it’s on hiatus, but I’ll probably occasionally write new chapters for it when the mood strikes. In place of that, the third story of the month will instead be _Keep Me Like A Secret_ , a new story that isn’t really focused on kink, but more on romance. While I find this story to be quite romantic, and even _The Brightest Witch_ to be romantic in its own way, _Keep Me Like A Secret_ will be much more of classic romance story involving Harry and a Muggle OC named Eva Young.  
  
The preview for that first chapter should be up there for Patrons this weekend, and will be published on my fanfiction accounts a week from now. I’m also preparing a fourth story to add to my regular update rotation, _Just Magic_ , which is a Harry/Fleur story set in Sixth Year. That might be something that gets published in April, but I’m not certain yet. I’m just preparing it. Adding a fourth story to my monthly rotation was the goal for reaching $200 pledged by Patrons, and (to my utter shock) I’m actually approaching that somewhat rapidly.  
  
It’s not guaranteed that _Just Magic_ will be the fourth story I add just yet, but it’s the strongest candidate in my mind. I’m also considering _No Morning After_ , which is more of a dimension/time-travel story that is inspired by Kathryn’s _I’m Still Here_ , which sits sadly unupdated.


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